


Sons of Chance

by sternfleck



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: 1980s teen movie vibes, Alternate Universe - High School, Creepy Snoke (Star Wars), First Kiss, Kissing, M/M, Mental Illness, Mutual Pining, New England Gothic, Private School, Reckless Driving, Road Trips, Snow, Supernatural Elements, Underage Drinking, Unreliable Narrator Kylo Ren, benarmie, blink and you'll miss it reincarnation, cringey teen emotions, fistfights, light roleplay, spooky season, world is hard but kylux is soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:47:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27249052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sternfleck/pseuds/sternfleck
Summary: First Order is the best student band at Hosnian Academy. But the school administrators have prohibited First Order from playing to open the homecoming dance. They’ve chosen the Resistance to play instead.Kylo would rather listen to First Order’s music even if he weren’t in love with their singer. But Kylo has loved Hux since seventh grade, so this affront is personal.Tension builds to a fistfight, a flight from justice, a road trip, a sinister encounter, a convenience store at midnight, snow, crystals, kisses, crime, a party, a lake, and the unfamiliar landscape of first love.-A fill for the Huxloween 2020 prompt: "Wrong Turn."
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 52
Kudos: 233
Collections: Huxloween 2020





	1. Hosnian Academy

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in March when I was sick with Covid-19, and never posted it. But now it's autumn—the season when this fic is set—and there doesn't seem like a better time to offer you something soft and silly and vaguely angsty/spooky.
> 
> The M rating is due to some dark themes in chapter 2, not for sexual content. There is kissing in this fic, but please don't go into it expecting smut.

Love brought me that far by the hand, without  
The slightest doubt or irony, dry-eyed  
And knowledgeable, contrary as be damned;  
Then just kept standing there, not letting go.  
-Seamus Heaney, “The Walk”

-

The student band playing at the homecoming dance aren't nearly as good as First Order, but Kylo won’t give Hux the satisfaction of telling him that. Hux probably knows, anyway. He’s leaning against the wall with an expression on his face like the members of the Resistance aren’t worth the adhesive on the stickers they’ve pasted all over their instruments.

It’s only Rey, Finn, Poe, and that girl Rose Tico on keyboard — she and Hux have a personal feud, though Kylo doesn’t know her well — but it’s weird that they’re performing. Seeing the four of them on stage in front of the whole school makes their little musical project seem like the real thing, not just the noise that clangs up from Uncle Luke’s garage when Kylo is trying to do his homework.

“Insipid chart-pop tripe,” Hux pronounces, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hux looks good in the lights set up to provide atmosphere for the dance. There’s a blue beam falling on him from above. It gives him an otherworldly aura, like he's a hologram, or some kind of alien.

Kylo doesn’t like to look at Hux, doesn’t like to be looked at, because he’s spent years living in fear that a glance could reveal his hopeless crush. But before the dance, Kylo stole a swig of whiskey from the cabinet in Leia’s living room, so he’s less inhibited than usual. Which means he’s probably staring.

“Rey doesn’t shower,” says Kylo in response. “She smells terrible up close.” He’s told Hux this bit of gossip about Rey before, because he’s convinced that Hux, with his hygiene obsession, will eventually find some way to use it against her.

“She _sounds_ terrible, both up close and at a distance,” Hux replies, tone crisp and decisive. “And the lyrics, are those Finn’s?”

“Poe’s. I think.”

“They’re maudlin, lovestruck rubbish. I can’t believe they forbade First Order from performing based on my songs’ content. Holdo said my lyrics were _too violent_. The world is a violent place! Do adults not understand that?”

Kylo has answered this rhetorical question already tonight, when he picked Hux up at his father’s house and drove to Hosnian Academy in the Silencer. During the first hour of Hux’s ranting, Kylo tried to make relevant replies. Now he says whatever comes to his mind. Hux isn’t listening to him, anyway.

“Adults don’t understand anything,” Kylo says, thinking of Han and Leia. And Luke. Especially Luke.

“They love the Resistance, though, don’t they? Look at the chaperones.” Hux twitches his head subtly towards the knot of teachers and staff at the other side of the gym. They’re all bobbing their heads to the music. Principal Holdo is doing a spacey-looking dance, waving her hands across her face and wiggling her fingers.

Only Vice Principal Snoke seems unmoved by the Resistance’s performance. Instead, Snoke is staring at Kylo, as usual. It’s creepy, but Kylo wouldn’t be graduating if it weren’t for Snoke sticking up for him. So he has to put up with it.

At Kylo’s home, everyone loves the Resistance, too, and they say First Order’s songs are too dark, too scary. Kylo caught Han humming one of the Resistance’s songs the other night while he was grilling steaks on the patio with Uncle Chewie. Leia’s an even bigger fan — she offered to use her political influence in town to get the Resistance a spot to perform on a local radio station.

Since Kylo isn’t technically a member of First Order, he can’t complain about this, but Leia’s preferential treatment still hurts. She knows how close he is, to Hux especially. He can’t help but wonder if Hux and Phasma would get more praise for their music if Kylo weren't skulking around them all the time, scaring people with his scarred face and worse reputation.

Hux is still watching the crowd with his arms crossed and a pinched expression on his face.

“Phasma was right to stay home. She’s breaking her high score blowing people’s heads up in that Galaxy Massacre game, and we’re stuck here with these imbeciles. Scum,” Hux adds for good measure, sneering at the quartet on the stage.

It’s a slow song now, the last of the Resistance’s set before the DJ takes the stage and starts playing actual music. Around them, couples sway under the drifting circles of multicolored light. There’s Mitaka with Nastia Unamo, looking like he’s about to cry or piss his pants, but then, Mitaka always looks like that. Kaydel Ko Connix has brought her girlfriend from another school, and they’re gazing at each other with such intensity that Kylo has to look away. So he turns to Hux again.

“Phasma was right, yeah,” Kylo says, sounding stupid. “Wait. But we’re not trapped here. I can drive us anywhere.”

“You’ve been drinking. I’m not getting back in the car with you until it wears off. I wouldn’t have let you drive me if I’d known.”

“I had one sip, Hux. If I’m acting strange, it’s me, not the alcohol.”

“Still,” Hux sniffs, and Kylo knows he’s thinking of Brendol.

Kylo regrets the gulp of whiskey now, for making him even more unappealing to Hux, when Kylo only did it because he was trying to be a normal teenager for once, to do something a normal teenager would do. Instead of the violent, twisted, fucked-up shit he usually does.

They’re standing close together, as usual, their shoulders nearly touching where they stand against the wall. Hux has on a white Oxford with the top button undone. They’re both in their normal clothes as a protest against the injustices of homecoming, but Hux looks too good even when he’s allegedly dressed down. Kylo admires the hollow at the base of Hux’s throat. The pale skin there is stained blue under the party lights.

“If you, I mean, if First Order were playing up there tonight,” says Kylo, because he knows letting Hux share his ideas will make up for the mistake with the whiskey, “how would you have done it? How would you dress? And set up the stage.”

Hux glances at Kylo with a flicker of surprised delight in his eyes. Kylo just stares, because it’s maybe more okay to stare if Hux is looking at him too. But then Hux turns back to face the room of drifting lights and swaying couples, seeing some grand vision that isn’t there.

“I would hang the flags we made from the back wall. One to each side of where Phasma and I stand. I’d drape the stage with something grey, to make it look like stone. A Brutalist look. I would have worn my uniform, but not the coat. Not on the stage. It’s far too warm. And Phasma would have her helmet, of course.”

“It would have been better than this,” says Kylo, because it’s true, and for once Hux deserves to hear it. Hux only sighs, weighed down by his glorious vision of what could have been.

Hux sings for First Order, while Phasma does synths and drums. They’ve been making music together since middle school, and their songs are good enough that Kylo would listen to them in his spare time even if he wasn’t in love with Hux. But he is, which means he’s always around when First Order is practicing.

Kylo was there to watch Phasma weld her helmet together out of the chrome hubcaps she’d stolen off an old car in a nearby junkyard. Back when they thought First Order might be allowed to perform at the homecoming dance, he’d helped to paint the black sunburst logo onto the yards of red fabric Hux had gotten to make the band’s flags. Then he and Hux had gotten into a fight, as usual, and Kylo had ended up splattered with black paint from Hux’s brush, Hux’s knee bruising his chest, Hux pinning him down until he admitted Hux was right about whatever dumb thing Kylo had picked a fight about.

It was one of the best afternoons of Kylo’s life.

There was the other afternoon, more recently, when Hux had invited Kylo over to see his First Order uniform after it arrived in the mail from that weird army surplus website. Hux usually wears preppy clothes, polos and chinos and Shetland sweaters in sweet pastels, because he’s going to be the school’s valedictorian and everyone expects him to look the part. But that day, he’d come out of his bathroom in his high-collared black tunic and jodhpurs and boots and belt. Hux looked like the commander of some space-age totalitarian army. Kylo had to quickly think unpleasant thoughts about Rey’s grandfather, the scary old man who owns the junkyard, to keep from embarrassing himself and Hux.

That doesn’t mean Kylo can’t think about Hux in uniform when he’s alone, though, and he does. Too often. He has an embarrassingly elaborate secret fantasy landscape he drifts into during idle hours, a world patched together from First Order’s dark lyrics and Kylo’s own sci-fi obsessions. In these fantasies, Hux and Kylo are the co-rulers of a distant galaxy, with absolute power over every planet and starship in their realm.

They’re also in love, which is the more important part.

Hux is the type who would have ideas about political strategy for his imaginary space empire, but in Kylo’s fantasies, mostly they just have sex. Except they’re in space, so it’s cooler.

Outside of Kylo’s fantasies, though, Hux doesn’t wear the uniform except for certain elaborate band rehearsals in Phasma’s backyard shed. Kylo sprawls on the upturned rain barrel in the corner and watches. Doesn’t even try to disguise his awe on these occasions, because Hux won’t notice Kylo’s stare when he’s caught up in his songs.

Kylo does wish Hux would wear his uniform out and about, even just once, because when Hux is in his uniform, he and Kylo finally match. Kylo always wears dark clothes with the edges trimmed and torn to make everything look ragged. He and Hux are an odd duo at school, and at times Kylo feels like clean-cut Hux’s monstrous shadow. But when they’re both all in black, Kylo is like a roaming black hole and Hux is like a star in eclipse. They’re a pair. Different, but complimentary. Anyone who saw them would know they belonged together.

The Resistance finishes up their set with an enthusiastic “thank you” to the crowd of their peers. They begin packing away their instruments while the DJ sets up and the kids on the dance floor wander towards the refreshment tables set up along the walls. Hux slips away to the gym’s doors, skirting the room, and Kylo follows him, as always.

There are benches in the gym lobby, under swags of golden fairy lights. Hux settles on one, crossing his legs primly at the ankle.

Kylo collapses onto the same bench with his legs spread, and leans back against the darkened windows behind. He’d like to think he’s imposing, regal, but he probably looks awkward instead. Hux, though, as always, looks like the ruler of the galaxy.

“Who will be king and queen, do you think?”

Kylo starts from his reverie. It takes a moment for him to understand Hux’s question. By then, Hux is already elaborating, exasperated, like he thinks Kylo is an idiot.

“For homecoming. That’s what you do here, isn’t it? You elect your royalty?”

“Oh. Yeah. It’s going to be Poe. And Rey.” Kylo grimaces. “They shouldn't even have packed up. They’ll be back on that stage at the end of the night.”

“It’s a shame you’re not allowed in the running, what with your blighted disciplinary record. You already act like the school’s dark prince. I’d like to see you in a crown.”

Hux is making fun of Kylo, of course — there’s that twitch of his lip, that cold fire in his eyes. Even so, his words make Kylo’s heart speed up.

There are other kids in the lobby now. They’re laughing, taking off their uncomfortable shoes, settling on the other benches to enjoy the cups of punch and skewers of fruit they’ve grabbed from the display around the chocolate fountain.

For Kylo, they may as well not exist. It’s always as though Hux is the only person in the room.

At last, Kylo manages to form a response to Hux’s ridiculous statement. “Who'd be queen if I were homecoming king, though? If they put me on a stage with Rey, I would choke her.”

“She’d choke you first,” Hux points out, not unreasonably. He’s eyeing Kylo’s scar, which makes the skin on Kylo’s face heat up around it.

“Perhaps your queen could be Phasma,” muses Hux. “She’s the most beautiful girl at this school, and the cleverest. If there were any justice in the world...”

Kylo knows Hux’s bond with Phasma is platonic — she’s a lesbian, he’s gay, they’re only bandmates, not lovers — but his stomach twists with jealousy nonetheless. If there were any justice in the world, _Hux_ would be his homecoming queen, or at least his date, instead of the perfect untouchable almost-best-friend Kylo doesn’t even have the courage to ask for a dance.

The DJ is playing his set now, and it’s actually good. His first song was a chart hit, but not a bad one, and now he’s put on one of those British synthpop songs Hux likes so much.

Hux is tapping his foot. If he wanted to dance, Kylo would go back inside with him. But Hux doesn’t dance. He only sings.

“I’m going to the chocolate fountain,” says Kylo, because if he doesn’t get up and move, he’s going to do something stupid involving Hux and a public display of possessive affection. Kylo’s impulse control is worse than anyone’s, but so far he’s managed to keep himself in check where Hux is concerned.

“Get me strawberries,” says Hux. “From the dark chocolate side of the fountain. And one of those little cakes, the madeleines.” As an aside, he adds, “I can’t believe the heinous extravagance of this school.”

Kylo nods. He has to flee towards the refreshments inside the gym, and fast, because. Does Hux _know_ what it _means_ to ask for a plate of chocolate strawberries? That they’re the gift lovers bring to each other on Valentine’s Day? Do they do that in England? Is Hux naïve — of course Hux is naïve, about so much of life — or is he flirting?

He couldn’t be. He couldn’t possibly be flirting. Kylo is repulsive to behold, and morally he’s even worse. Not that Hux is a moralist, but inner beauty would count for something even with Kylo’s scars, and inner beauty is a thing Kylo decidedly lacks.

At the refreshment table, Kylo piles two plates with madeleines and skewers of red fruit. He drags each skewer under the dark side of the chocolate fountain, making slashing sounds under his breath, like he’s in a pretend sword fight. Then he spots Poe on the other side of the fountain. Poe is laughing at him. Kylo scowls.

“Having fun there, Ben?” Poe lifts his glass of punch in a rakish toast. His smile is broad and white and profoundly fake.

“Suck a dick, Poe,” is Kylo’s eloquent response, as he twirls on the heel of his combat boot and stalks away. He’s embarrassed, but mostly he’s livid. Poe gets to have everything — popularity, a Hollywood-handsome face, confidence, a performance at homecoming, Leia’s unconditional approval — and he still has to make fun of Kylo at the chocolate fountain, the smug fuck.

Kylo also hasn’t forgotten the time last spring when Poe drunk-dialed Hux the night before their AP chemistry exam, purely to insult Hux’s mother.

Poe had called Hux “Hugs” on the drunken phone call. It was this, above all, that officially left Poe Dameron worse than dead to Kylo Ren.

Kylo is still boiling over with rage when he sets the plates of fruit down on the lobby bench beside Hux. Hux looks surprised, like he didn’t actually expect Kylo to fulfill his request.

Kylo kicks the bench, to discharge some of his frustration, and Hux says, “Careful!” He’d been eating one of his strawberries, and now there’s melted chocolate on the tip of his nose.

“Anger issues,” diagnoses Hux with a tight frown, as he looks Kylo up and down. “What’s gotten into you now?”

“Poe mocked me and called me Ben,” says Kylo, aware of how dumb that sounds, but too angry to care.

This time he kicks the empty bench next to the one Hux is sitting on. It bounces, in spite of being bolted to the floor. Kylo wishes he could break it down to a pile of splinters.

“At least he didn’t call you ‘Hugs,’” says Hux with distaste.

Kylo hears him dimly, his gorgeous voice hazy through the veil of Kylo’s rage. Kylo responds with clenched fists and some inarticulate noise, a growl or a roar. Hux's eyes widen with alarm.

“Kylo,” says Hux deliberately. “Kylo.”

Kylo kicks the bench again. “Fucking golden boy, everyone’s favorite person to ever draw breath, fucking homecoming king piece of shit.”

“Kylo. I’ve called you by your proper name three times now. Surely that makes up for Poe saying your old name once. It’s basic maths.”

Oh, Hux is so condescending. Such a prick, a bastard in the literal and the figurative sense. Kylo would, without question, die for him.

Instead he sits down on Hux’s bench. He’s breathing heavily in the aftermath of his rage. It takes a long moment for him to calm himself down. For that moment, he allows himself to look at Hux.

“You have some chocolate.” Kylo touches the tip of his own ungainly nose.

Hux flushes pink and looks around for a napkin, but of course Kylo didn’t think to grab any of those when he was about to go berserk on Poe. Hux is prepared, though, as always. He pulls a folded handkerchief from his pocket and dabs at the tip of his nose, grimacing at the way the chocolate stains the scarlet silk.

“You must think me slovenly,” says Hux when his appearance is restored to its usual perfection.

Kylo laughs, because it’s the least self-aware thing Hux could have said. He looks _so_ good, his hair parted on the side and held in place with just the right amount of pomade. Under the fairy lights, Hux gleams, the harsh lines of his slim frame softened and set aglow. Kylo wants to put his hand on Hux’s jaw, draw his fingertips along the soft place under Hux’s chin, tip Hux’s face up until those ocean-colored eyes are close enough to fall into.

Then a voice nearby says, in a tone of aggressive resentment, “Couldn’t you just be happy for us, Ben?”

It’s Rey. It’s fucking _Rey_ , and of course she followed him out here after he said that to Poe, because she’s like Poe's bodyguard or something, and after the car crash she’s got it out for Kylo permanently. As though his scar isn’t enough revenge for what happened that night when Rey was driving the Falcon.

“Careful, Rey,” says Hux, narrowing his eyes at her in warning.

Rey ignores him. She’s too close to Kylo now, getting up in his space. “No, really, Ben, why do you have to be such a scumbag every minute of every day? Couldn’t you let Poe have this one night without being a monster to him?”

“Rey. That’s enough.” This is Hux, always trying to maintain order.

Kylo, for his part, is too outraged to listen to reason. He rises to his feet, towering over Rey. “Your boyfriend can’t take a joke. So he sends you. Like you haven’t done enough to fuck up my life.”

Poe isn’t her boyfriend, but Kylo doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about anything anymore, not when Rey, who has the whole world on her side, thinks she has the right to further ruin his evening. When she’s already come between Kylo and Luke, between Kylo and his parents, now she wants to alienate him from Hux, too. Rey won’t give up until she’s taken everything from Kylo, until she’s got him all alone, all for herself.

Rey stands her ground.

“Ben, everything that happened between us was your fault. Because you couldn’t handle me trying to be kind to you. Trying to help you. Because I believed you could be saved.”

Rey’s face is blotchy now. She’s got her hands clenched in the skirt of her dress, a short dress of beige satin wrapped around her in strips like bandages. It’s goofy, just like her sparkly earrings and her dumb three-bun hairstyle that makes her head look like a stegosaurus.

“No one can help me,” Kylo yells, his voice breaking.

Poe appears behind Rey, and then Finn and Rose, too. All the members of the Resistance, assembled to fuck things up for Kylo and Hux.

“Kylo, don’t do this.” Hux lays his hand on Kylo’s arm, and his fingers are warm, his grip certain. It pulls Kylo out of his spinning head and back into his body.

“She isn’t worth it,” spits Hux. He takes a step forward to face Rey. “You’re obsessed with him. Why? He’s only made life worse for you. There are billions of other people out there who need saving, if you’re fixated on saving people. Put your resources into some sort of charity, and leave Kylo Ren alone.”

Kylo wonders if Hux used his full name as a rebuttal to all the times Rey called him “Ben.” Even if that’s not the case, he’s grateful.

“I’m not obsessed.” Rey reels back from Hux, disgusted. “He’s practically my cousin. I have every right to care about him.”

Hux’s expression sharpens in a lethal, strategic way. He’s found a weak spot. He prepares for the final strike.

“He’s not interested, Rey. You have two other nice boys to dance with tonight. Or Rose, she seems fond of you. Kylo and I have other plans.”

He curls his hand around Kylo’s arm again. If they weren’t backed against the lobby’s wall of windows, Kylo’s sure Hux would have pulled him away by now, making a haughty and dignified retreat.

“So that’s why you told me to suck a dick.” Poe’s grin is a high-beam headlight in the seconds before a head-on collision. “You were telling me your agenda for the night.”

There’s a sound in Kylo’s head like microphone feedback, but also like rain. Kylo shakes off Hux’s grip, draws back his arm, and punches Poe right in the middle of his smug, smiling face.

Hux screams and staggers back as if he’s the one who’s been punched. Rey throws herself at Kylo like a spider monkey, and Finn is dragging Kylo to the ground, punching him too.

Rose is trying to pull everyone off of each other, and Hux is too, but then Hux gets too close to Rose and she starts hitting him, shouting something to do with their old feud. A crowd of students gathers to watch, and Kylo has his hands around Poe’s neck, and Hux is in trouble but Kylo can’t stop this, can’t help him, and things go on in this way, getting worse, until a voice like the grave itself echoes out over the gym lobby and everyone falls still.

Vice Principal Snoke stands in the doorway, gnarled and terrifying. The rainbow lights on the gym dancefloor flash behind his silhouette.

Snoke steps into the lobby’s softer light. For some reason, he’s wearing a suit jacket covered entirely in gold sequins. Snoke looks straight at Kylo, like he can read Kylo’s mind.

Kylo lets go of Poe’s neck. Poe whispers a curse as his head lands with a hollow sound against the linoleum floor.

“Kylo Ren,” says Snoke. “And Rey Palpatine. I see everything between you. There is no mystery here, not to me.”

Kylo glances at Hux, who is looking at Snoke like he could blast the Vice Principal into the dark October sky with the force of his loathing.

“There’s nothing between us,” says Rey, before adding, “Vice Principal.”

“I agree with her.” Kylo does, for once, but he also figures a performance of reconciliation is his best bet to salvage his freedom at this point. Snoke has always looked out for him, in his creepy way, but even a gross old man’s patience has to have its limits.

“Vice Principal, Rey approached Kylo and began antagonizing us,” says Hux with a surprising lack of fear. “Her fellow band members united against us and provoked my friend Kylo with a crude sexual slur. I was attempting to break up the altercation when Miss Tico attacked me, as you can see from my face.”

Hux has a crescent of red across his right cheekbone. Kylo realizes with awed astonishment that it’s a bite mark. Rose Tico bit Hux on the cheek. No wonder Hux isn’t afraid of getting in trouble with the school — he’s got proof of his wounded innocence right there on his face.

“Silence, Armitage,” Snoke commands. “This matter is none of your concern. Kylo Ren, accompany me to the locker rooms. We will discuss your options. Principal Holdo will deal with the members of the Resistance.”

“I’m coming with him,” says Hux, rising to his feet. The bite on his face didn’t break the skin, but a trickle of blood runs down from his nostril to his lips. He drags it away with his shirtsleeve. Kylo wonders if anyone has ever looked as beautiful as Hux looks now, standing up for him, bloodied and bitten under the fairy lights, with his ginger hair falling across his forehead and into his eyes.

Snoke is on the edge of refusing, but Kylo shakes off Finn and Rey and gets to his feet as well, and then takes Hux’s hand. If they have to face Snoke for their mistake, they’ll face him together.

“Holdo,” Snoke bellows. She’s already on the way in, long purple dress trailing behind her. Her brows are drawn together in motherly concern.

Kylo is relieved he doesn’t have to face her. He hates Snoke, but Holdo terrifies him. Even if she weren’t Leia’s best friend, she would still chill Kylo’s blood with her “I’m the _cool_ Principal” act, her pretense of care for all her students.

Once Holdo has custody of the kids in the Resistance, Snoke shuffles down the hallway out of the lobby, towards the locker rooms. He beckons over his gold-sequined shoulder. Hux follows him, still holding Kylo’s hand.

In the locker rooms, the fluorescent lights flicker over yellowed linoleum, and everything smells of bleach and feet. Hux grips Kylo’s hand tighter, and Kylo squeezes Hux’s in return, to reassure Hux or to reassure himself, he doesn’t know.

“Your error was a grave one, Kylo Ren,” Snoke rasps. “You have repeated an old mistake.”

“He’s never fought with anyone at school before,” says Hux, though this isn’t strictly true. Hux and Kylo have exchanged occasional punches during lunch periods. But, like everything, it’s different with Hux.

“Armitage,” says Snoke. The sound echoes off the tiled walls. “You will say nothing, and you will remember nothing of this meeting. You were never here.”

“Yes, sir.” Hux inclines his head, and Kylo can feel Hux hating Snoke, hating himself for acquiescing to Snoke’s demands.

“Kylo.” Snoke draws out the name, tender and poisonous. “You have destroyed your last chance to redeem yourself. No one else believes in you now. I am your only advocate.”

“I can change,” Kylo interrupts. “I won’t disappoint you again.”

“Silence. Your promises mean nothing. Your actions speak loudest.”

“Vice Principal,” Hux cuts in, speaking rapidly. “This was the fault of the girl, Rey. The Resistance. They attacked us. It’s unfair for Kylo to bear the blame.”

“Armitage, leave us. If you cannot hold your tongue, you will not have the privilege of an audience with us tonight.”

Hux swallows. Kylo watches his throat bob, his jaw tighten. Hux doesn’t have a history of personal success when it comes to standing up to threatening men. This can’t be easy for him. Kylo is astonished, grateful, falling in love with Hux all over again. He lets go of Hux’s hand, but Hux keeps hold. Doesn’t move to pull away.

“Kylo won’t speak in his own defense, Vice Principal. You deserve to know the truth, to make an informed decision as to how you will proceed.”

Snoke ignores Hux. “You will meet with me after school thrice weekly, Kylo Ren, in my office, until the end of the year and your graduation. I will provide you with the guidance you require. Mentorship. Training. Should you disobey my demands, or violate the terms of your probation, you will be expelled.”

“Yes, Vice Principal,” says Kylo.

His skin crawls at the thought of three afternoons alone with Snoke each week for the rest of the year. Snoke wouldn’t actually harm him, would he? His gaze alone feels like a violation, like he’s sifting through all of Kylo’s insecurities, finding new ways to manipulate Kylo and make him weak.

“You will not return to the dance,” says Snoke to Kylo. “You will follow me to my car, and I will deliver you to your home. Armitage, you are free to go. Do not accompany us.”

Kylo can feel Hux’s pulse where his thumb is pressed against Hux’s wrist. It’s rapid, fluttery, and Hux’s hand is cold. Kylo wants to take Hux in his arms and hold him, stroke his hair and tell him this will all be okay, even if things seem impossible tonight.

“I’m not leaving,” Hux snarls.

At the same moment, Kylo says, “Hux doesn’t have a ride home without me.”

“Then I will deliver you both,” Snoke pronounces. The flickering fluorescent lights make his weird sequined jacket look alive, like muscles rippling under the skin of a serpent.

With their hands still linked, Kylo and Hux follow Snoke down the hall, out to the lobby again. Under Snoke’s scrutiny, Hux leads Kylo back to their bench, where Hux picks up his long black coat and throws it around his shoulders. There’s no sign of the fight on the lobby floor, but the two plates of fruit and chocolate are still sitting there on the bench like remnants of an extinct civilization.

Inside the gym, where people are dancing, the DJ is playing that song about wanting to rule the world, the one Hux loves to sing along to. Kylo hopes tonight’s fiasco won’t ruin it for him.

Snoke holds the lobby door open for them, then proceeds in the direction of the parking lot. The music is being piped through speakers out into the courtyard in front of the gym. It’s loud enough that Snoke doesn’t hear when Hux leans close to Kylo’s ear and breathes, “When I squeeze your hand, we run for the Silencer.”

Kylo glances at Hux. Their eyes meet, and Kylo nods once. He’s not sure if this is a good idea, but it can’t make things worse. Nothing could be worse than a ride home with Snoke. Hux lives much further from the school, too, all the way in Arkanis, and Kylo would rather die under torture than leave Hux alone in Snoke’s clutches on a chilly October night.

Kylo feels in his pocket for his keys. He flicks the button on the fob, hoping it will unlock the Silencer at this distance, when Snoke is too far away to see the car’s lights flash and hear the doors unlatch themselves.

They’re almost to Snoke’s car. The Silencer is still a few rows away, under the orange-tinted sodium-vapor lamps that light the parking lot. The air is bitter out here, almost snowy, the first cold snap of the season. It heightens Kylo’s fear, but sharpens his senses, too.

Then Hux squeezes his hand, hard, and he’s running, and Kylo is running too, and it’s a long timeless moment before Snoke’s shout reaches them across the asphalt, over the backs of all the motionless cars.

Hux won’t let go of Kylo’s hand even when they reach the car. He throws himself over the central console to get to the passenger seat, pulling Kylo in after him.

“Drive, drive, Kylo, oh, god, _fuck, what have we done._ ”

Hux is trembling, fastening his seatbelt, kneeling backwards in his seat to peer out the rear windshield, and Kylo is reversing and turning and accelerating and driving better than he ever thought he could, and the light in the car is flashing orange and black and orange and black as Kylo peels out from under the rows of sodium lamps, out of the school’s parking lot, into the town’s empty, dark, silent streets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a finished four-chapter fic. My plan is to post a chapter every day for four days, from the 29th of October to the 1st of November. Thanks for reading, and happy Halloween.


	2. Exegol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, all of you, for your support and encouragement on Chapter 1. Your comments always mean so much to me. I feel privileged to be able to bring some seasonal cheer to the fandom with my writing.
> 
> This chapter has some content warnings. Mentions of self-harm, psychosis, canon-typical homicidal ideation/violence, and canon-typical manipulation of minors by adults. If you need more information, I’ve put more detailed explanations in the end notes.

Kylo remembers the car crash. He was sixteen, newly licensed. Sophomore year.

He remembers his rage, and the power when he grabbed the wheel of the Falcon out of Rey’s hands at the moment she put her weight on the accelerator. The speed, the spin, the flip, the impact, the shattering glass, the numb silence before the screaming and the pain.

The next thing he remembers isn’t the surgery, or the fake tears Han and Leia must have provided, dutifully, at the sight of their only son slashed up like a piece of roadkill. No, the next thing Kylo remembers is Hux sitting by his hospital bed.

Hux had purple shadows under his eyes, like he hadn’t been sleeping. He’d worn his long wool coat, the one he wears over his uniform when he performs as First Order, but he’d draped it over his front like a blanket. With his delicate hands, Hux was stroking the coat’s fabric in a nervous, self-soothing way.

Kylo was on three different drugs at least, his face held together with staples, his shoulder fucked for probably the rest of his life, but all he could think about was what it would be like to crawl under Hux’s coat with him. It wouldn’t have covered them, of course, because Hux is small and Kylo is big and even back in sophomore year they were both too tall to fit under a coat together, but even so, Kylo hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. He’d lain there imagining, gazing at Hux through his swollen eyelids, until the drugs swept back through him and he was asleep again.

The mere fact that Kylo’s parents still let him drive — that they bought him the Silencer, even — is proof that they don’t care whether he lives or dies. They act like it shows their trust in him, in his recovery. But Kylo isn’t recovered. He’s still all fucked up. If Han and Leia loved him, they’d be able to see that.

Tonight, though, Kylo is grateful for the Silencer. He skirts the high edge of the speed limit on the way out of town. Hux has his greatcoat over his lap, like during his hospital visits, and he’s not shaking as badly now it’s clear no one is following them. At least they’re both eighteen now, so they won’t get stopped for breaking curfew. They can’t escape forever, but Kylo won’t think about the future. He has his car, his freedom, and he has Hux. There’s only tonight.

“What’s your plan, Kylo?”

Of course Hux wants a plan. The very thing Kylo can’t give him. Hux is turned towards Kylo with his feet on his seat, hugging his knees under his greatcoat and blinking hesitantly. There’s something precious about his face right now, even with the bite mark and the smear of blood below his nose. He trusts Kylo. He’s put his fate in Kylo’s hands.

“Put on some music,” says Kylo, to keep from telling Hux that he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing or where they could even go. It won’t fool Hux, but it will distract him for a few minutes while he finds a good radio station.

Hux leans forward, toggling between the stations with his pale fingers stark against the dark knob. Once in a while he glances at Kylo, as though to check if he likes a song. At last Hux finds a station he likes, and collapses back in his seat with a sigh. The song is a drum machine loop, a guitar, some occasional synths that sound like laser guns firing in a battle in space, and over it all, a voice singing about not being afraid anymore.

“This sounds like First Order,” Kylo says without thinking about it, and Hux gives a pleased little gasp.

“Oh, Kylo,” he breathes.

The sound goes straight below Kylo’s waistband. Kylo wants to tell Hux all the true things that will make him make those noises over and over again.

He clenches his teeth and wills his body to calm down. Hux is only a friend, even if he did spend all their time at the homecoming dance by Kylo’s side. Even if he did ask Kylo to bring him chocolate strawberries. Even if he fought for Kylo, refused to leave him alone with Snoke. Wouldn’t let go of his hand.

“We’re going to Exegol,” Kylo decides.

The town is half an hour over the Connecticut state line into New York. Rey’s grandfather’s junkyard is in Exegol, and the junkyard is far enough off the main road that no one will disturb them there. What better place to hide a wanted car than in a field full of unwanted cars?

Hux appears satisfied with this. He tips his head back against the headrest and combs his hair back into place with the tips of his fingers, listening to the music. It’s all Kylo can do to keep his eyes on the road when Hux’s throat is bared like that. There’s so much to worry about in the future, so much in the past to berate himself for, but Kylo can only manage to think about Hux, and how the skin on his neck must taste — all soap and salt — and the sweet, helpless sounds Hux would make as Kylo gave him everything he would allow.

“What do you think happened to the Resistance?” Hux asks after a moment. “What punishment did Holdo assign them?”

“Nothing,” says Kylo bitterly. “She probably congratulated them for their victory over the forces of evil.”

Hux laughs, a short bark. “We’re not _evil_ , surely, Kylo.”

“I’m evil.”

Kylo isn’t kidding. Not after what he was trying to do to Rey when he grabbed the wheel of the Falcon. He still wishes it had worked, especially when she confronts him like she did tonight.

“You’re not,” insists Hux. “You have different personal interests than they do. Different priorities and incentives. Anyway, I can’t imagine Holdo wouldn’t have given them mandatory counseling at the absolute least. Mitaka and Unamo were present in the crowd. They’ll vouch for us. I mean, Tico _bit me_!”

“Why does she hate you so much, anyway?”

“Oh.” Hux glances down at his knees, where they form a hill under the greatcoat. “Well. I insulted her dead sister and her parents. And told her that the town where she was born—in Maine, yes?—deserved to be bombed off the map. And I may have also called the Resistance, ah, ‘vermin.’”

Something wells up in Kylo like late afternoon sunlight. He laughs, and has to slow down before he runs off the road. Hux laughs too, surprised but pleased, now able to see the humor in the situation.

“You’re perfect, Hux,” Kylo says, because there’s nothing romantic about appreciating a friend’s good insult. But Hux makes another of his breathy happy noises, and hugs his knees tighter under his coat.

“Kylo,” Hux says. It gives Kylo the same forbidden feeling all over again. He could probably get off just from Hux saying his name. From Hux reminding Kylo that he is not what his family wants of him, but instead, the person he’s chosen to be.

In his reverie, Kylo nearly misses the turn to Exegol and the junkyard. Sharply, he swings the Silencer down the dark road. Hux reaches to the console to steady himself against it.

“You drove well back there, in the school car park,” Hux says. “A stunt pilot would be envious.”

This is news to Kylo. “I thought you hated my driving.”

“I hate all driving,” Hux specifies. “I dislike quick movement, and I loathe the road accident statistics. From a rational public safety standpoint, driving makes no sense.”

“But you liked my getaway car moves.”

“Yes, Kylo, I did. Rather a lot. You saved us. It’s difficult to overstate how much I’d rather ride with you than with Vice Principal Snoke. I also appreciate that you’re no longer intoxicated.”

If only Hux knew how intoxicated Kylo was with him, he might get out of the car on the side of the road in Exegol and walk the thirty-odd miles back to his house in Arkanis, Connecticut. But Hux is talking about alcohol, and Kylo isn’t drunk. Never really was, in spite of his foolish pre-dance effort at Leia’s.

“Glad I rate above Snoke on your list of co-carpoolers.”

Hux scoffs. “Kylo, really. Snoke is inhuman. The things he was saying to you…they were unforgivable.”

Kylo takes a long glance away from the road, at Hux, until Hux flinches slightly, just a twitch of his nose that anyone who didn’t know him well would miss.

“Snoke takes care of me,” says Kylo. Even in his own ears, he doesn’t sound like he believes it.

“He’s a predator and a manipulative psychopath,” Hux retorts. “And that sequined coat he wore tonight was straight from a cult horror film.”

Kylo can’t argue with that. But the driveway up to Old Man Sheev’s junkyard is here on the right. He turns and takes the Silencer down the drive. The sound of the gravel under the wheels drowns out any conversation.

Out here, autumn is nearly over. Back in the Hosnian Academy area, and in Kylo’s neighborhood in the nearby town of Chandrila, the maple trees along the streets are still cheerful red and orange. But in Exegol the trees are towering conifers, black against the starry sky. Branches threaten to scrape the sides of the Silencer as it slides along the narrow road. The wind has risen, whistling through the treetops.

At the end of the driveway, the forest gives way to a wide field of dry grass that appears grey in the light of the crescent moon. Scattered in the grass are more than a hundred broken-down cars in various states of decay, with shattered windows, missing wheels, and hoods that remind Kylo sickeningly of the broken body of Han’s Falcon in the aftermath of the crash.

At the far edge of the field, there’s a crumbling cottage, nothing but a black cube of old timbers silhouetted in the dark. That’s Old Man Sheev’s house. It should be creepy, but to Kylo, it’s sad.

Sheev Palpatine had once been a controversial figure in local politics, with tendrils of influence as far away as Poughkeepsie and Boston. He’d worked with Kylo’s grandfather, back when Anakin Skywalker was in law enforcement in Naboo, New York. Anakin hadn’t had an easy life — he’d been investigated for abuse of power, and he’d died of pneumonia before the investigation could be closed. (Kylo has evidence that Anakin was innocent, but no one, not even Leia, believes him.)

Then, around the same time, Sheev had come down with a degenerative disease that left him unable to work, and the cops had gotten on his case about legal irregularities in one of his many companies. Before long, the old man was nobody, a junkyard owner out in spooky Exegol. Even Rey, Sheev’s only surviving family member, won’t give him the time of day. She lives with Luke instead, totally ensnared in Luke’s cult ideology.

Kylo would worry about Rey if she weren’t obsessed with stalking Kylo and wrecking his life. Sheev got a much worse deal than Rey, anyway, in the end. Rey has friends. Hell, Rey has found a whole new family for herself by stealing it from Kylo, like she’s one of those birds born from an egg laid in another species’ nest.

Kylo parks the car at the edge of the field and cuts the headlights. The Silencer is low-slung and black with a sharp silhouette, and it will blend right in with the twisted, rusted shapes of the junk cars.

“I hope you haven’t brought me here to murder me,” Hux remarks, turning the volume down on the music. He eyes the grim scene with his brows drawn together. “I have a bright future ahead of me, you know. A great deal of potential.”

Kylo turns in his seat, leaning against the door to get a better view of Hux. He’s pale in the moonlight, as lovely as he was under the fairy lights in the lobby, or under the blue spotlight on the dance floor. If anyone dies tonight, it will be Kylo, murdered by his own vain hope of ever being part of Hux’s bright future.

“A secret execution isn’t my style,” Kylo says. “You know I make a performance of everything. Melodrama.”

“Reassuring.” Hux’s mouth quirks. “So, why have you brought me to Exegol, then? I’ve never been to this place before. Phasma told me of it when she came to get the hubcaps for her helmet, but...well. It’s bigger than I expected, for one thing.”

“Sheev used to own this whole town. Now it’s just empty land and these cars.”

“All empires fall,” says Hux in an elegiac tone. If that’s not already in one of First Order’s songs, Kylo expects it will be soon.

Kylo folds his arms over the top of the steering wheel, lays his head on them with his face turned towards Hux. Some of his long hair falls into his eyes, but he’s too worn out to brush it away right now. “I didn’t know where else to go. They won’t look for us here. We can listen to music, talk. Whatever. I didn’t want to go home.”

“I don’t ever want to go home,” says Hux. He sighs. “It doesn’t matter what we do. Anything with you is better than with Snoke or Holdo or Brendol or the bloody Resistance.”

“We can get out and walk if you want.” Kylo doesn’t really want to, but it’s polite to offer. Since this place is new to Hux, he might want to explore.

“It’s getting cold. And my tetanus immunization has expired. I can’t go wandering in fields of rusty metal in the dead of night.”

Hux also hates dirt and decay and the outdoors and anything else he can’t control, but he doesn’t need to say that, because Kylo knows it already. Kylo knows all of Hux’s quirks and preferences, far too well, and what good is that, to know him so well, when Kylo will never be first in Hux’s heart or anyone else’s?

Straightening up, Hux slides his feet from the seat onto the floor. He keeps the greatcoat over his lap, but leans against the console’s storage box on one elbow. He’s much closer to Kylo now. Kylo is grateful, madly grateful for the heat coming off Hux’s skin, but now it’s even more difficult to think of anything besides how hot Hux’s mouth would be on his, and how he would taste inside.

“This is the sort of place where I half expect to see a forest monster, or some sort of demon,” says Hux. He fixes his narrowed eyes on the wind-tossed treeline. It’s such an uncharacteristic sentiment from practical, rational Hux that Kylo jerks his head up from the steering wheel to watch the trees too.

“I’m the one who sees demons, Hux. Not you.”

“Still?” Hux doesn’t sound surprised, only disappointed. “You know there are medications that can help with that.”

This always incenses Kylo, this old argument they keep having about Kylo’s visions and nightmares. Hux is so willing to think Kylo is crazy. He doesn’t understand the value of the dark places in the psyche, the lessons in the secret shadows of the heart. Hux thinks he can shine a big light on everything he doesn’t understand, and blow it to pieces if he doesn’t like what he finds. It’s an ignorant and graceless approach to emotion. It’s no wonder Hux has so much trouble dealing with his own feelings about his family and the broader chaos of the world.

But tonight Kylo doesn’t have the energy to pick a fight with Hux. Kylo says, “I don’t mind them. They make me feel connected to my grandfather.”

“Last time you told me your symptoms, your grandfather’s ghost was appearing in a suit of black armor and telling you to kill people. That doesn’t sound like a wholesome family connection.”

“What would you know about family?” Kylo is getting wound up in spite of himself. It’s not nice, what he said, and he doesn’t like the way Hux’s face twitches, almost flinching.

But Hux doesn’t take the bait. He’s tired too, or tired of conflict, at least.

“I just don’t want it to get bad for you again,” says Hux. “It was difficult last year. After what happened at school.”

What happened at school was that Kylo had listened to one of his visions.

It wasn’t his grandfather in this particular vision, but Vice Principal Snoke, which was weird in hindsight, but completely unremarkable to Kylo at the time. The vision-Snoke had told Kylo to kill Rey and Uncle Luke. Kylo hadn’t done that, but he had cut his arms open and bled all over the school bathroom until the pain made the vision disappear. He hadn’t been trying to kill himself — he just wanted to make a mess and shock his family — but no one believed that, not even Hux.

The weirdest part of it was that the real Vice Principal Snoke was the one who found Kylo in the bathroom, when he was bloody and crying in the corner of the largest stall. Snoke was also the one who advocated for Kylo in the aftermath, even though he should have been expelled for doing something so unhinged on school property.

Kylo never told anyone that Snoke had been in his vision, but he thinks Snoke might know anyway. The Vice Principal says things that make Kylo wonder if Snoke can see everything inside his head.

After the incident, Kylo had spent the next six months living at Luke’s house, because Luke is allegedly some sort of adolescent psychologist in addition to being a cultist and a new age hippie. It was dehumanizing, but it wasn’t Kylo’s worst option. It was far better than getting sent to a mental hospital or a military school. Or to one of those wilderness programs out West, where kids whose parents hate them have to march for miles through the desert until they drop dead or accept the word of the Lord.

At least Kylo had been able to stay at Hosnian Academy, close to people he already knew. Close to Hux.

“That will never happen again,” Kylo promises, hoping it’s one he can keep. “I didn’t take life seriously back then. Now I do.”

“You took everything seriously, Kylo. You always have. That’s the problem with your hallucinations.”

“I won’t do it again.” That’s final.

But Kylo has something else to confess about the problem with his visions, the problem with Snoke. Things aren’t going to be easier with Snoke now that Kylo is expected to meet with him three times a week. Hux will understand this better than anyone else, and Kylo can’t stand keeping his fear all to himself, locked inside.

Still, Kylo wouldn’t even consider telling Hux what he’s about to tell him if it weren’t dark and quiet and spooky here in the car in Exegol. In a car at night, it’s easy to say things you’d never say to someone’s face in daylight.

“Snoke keeps trying to get me to talk to him about my hallucinations,” says Kylo, the words pouring out of him in a rush. “He took me into his office at the beginning of the school year and asked me all these fucking weird questions, like, have I ever made anything move using my mind, or seen something happen before it actually happened.”

“What.” Hux’s voice is hollow. Again, not surprised, but not disappointed this time, either. His voice has the sound of a worst suspicion confirmed.

“I didn’t tell him anything. He’s not a shrink. I wouldn’t even tell a shrink that stuff. And, moving things with my mind? That’s fantasy shit. That shit doesn’t exist. It was like he wanted me to admit I was crazy so he could use it to pull me away from everyone else.”

Kylo didn’t expect this to sound so true, or so fucked up. Hux has new horror on his face.

Kylo doesn’t need or want Hux’s pity, but as he looks at Hux, a tight prickle of tears travels up Kylo’s throat to his eyes. Kylo won’t cry in front of Hux, not when Hux is stoic and brave, not when Kylo already cries too much on his own time. So he swallows the feeling.

“You need to tell Leia about this,” says Hux gently. “That’s dangerous, what Snoke is doing.”

“Leia doesn’t care.” Kylo’s voice is rough. His mother is the last person he needs to think about when he’s trying not to cry.

“Leia is a public servant.” Hux keeps to the edge between care and condescension, between exasperation and tenderness. “She is your mother, and she is also a leader in this community. She takes pains to protect children when it’s possible for her to do so.”

“Protect — Hux, I’m not a child. I’m legally an adult.”

“For less than a fortnight, Kylo. But it’s beside the point. If Snoke is treating you this way, you’re not the first student he’s done this to. Abuse never happens in a vacuum. There are always other cases.”

Now Hux looks like he might cry, too, probably thinking of his father, of Brendol’s conduct towards Hux’s mother, and of the boys’ rugby team Brendol had coached before it was shut down for violence.

“I don’t want to tell Leia.” Kylo slides down in his seat and closes his eyes. “If she doesn’t care, if she ignores me and lets this happen, like she let everything else happen to me when I was a kid and I needed her and she wasn’t there...”

“If you don’t tell her,” Hux swears, “I will. I will mount an offensive and make Leia Organa’s life a living hell until she addresses this. Judge Sloane stood up for me with my father, and I’ll stand up for you if you won’t stand up for yourself. If Leia refuses to intervene, I’ll go to the school. If they don’t take action, I’ll do whatever I must. I’ll destroy the entire system if I have to.”

“I don’t need help,” whispers Kylo. It’s unconvincing. He can’t even convince himself of it.

“I will, Kylo. I promise. I’m going to—”

Hux breaks off. There’s a sound in the silent night, a new sound, behind them.

It’s the engine of a car.

A car, pulling up behind them. With its headlights off.

Kylo looks at Hux. Hux looks at Kylo. They both look into the rearview mirror, then through the Silencer’s back window.

It’s a pickup truck, by the shape of it, black even where the moonlight hits the roof. It’s up against Kylo’s bumper, and the shape in the driver’s seat is dark, featureless, indistinguishable.

This is different. This is not good.

After a long moment in which Kylo’s heart seems to come to a full stop and then restart again, the driver’s door of the truck behind them opens.

“Fuck,” breathes Hux. “Kylo, fuck, could you...drive, possibly? Away from here?”

But Kylo can’t drive, not unless he’s willing to plow through the field of wrecked cars, because between the Silencer and the only driveway out of the junkyard, there’s a fucking pickup truck with its lights off and someone stepping down from the cab onto the road.

The gravel grinds under the person’s feet. They’re walking slowly, with great effort. Each step sounds like the final tick of the clock counting down the seconds of Kylo’s life.

Hux is clinging to his arm, though, which is nice. There are worse places to die than in Armitage Hux’s arms.

When the figure gets abreast of the backseat of the driver’s side of the Silencer, they’re close enough for Kylo to see that this stranger wears a black cloak. A hood hangs low to cover their face. An aura of menace emanates from the figure’s very being. Kylo’s mouth is painfully dry.

The figure lifts its arm, and reaches out a white, decayed-looking hand.

This is the point where Kylo’s flight instinct takes over all his other senses.

He guns the Silencer to life — the headlights hit his eyes like a punch to the forehead — and accelerates forward.

No plan. Only terror, self-preservation, and lovely Hux burying his face in Kylo’s shoulder, whispering something inaudible and desperate.

Hux sits up when the car shoots forward into the tall grass. He screams slightly, but Kylo doesn’t have time to worry about Hux’s opinion of his driving. He doesn’t have the racetrack skills of his father, but he assumes that if he hits the accelerator, he has a better chance of not sinking into the mud of the junkyard field. There’s a gap in a stand of trees not far from the driveway, and if he can fit through there, he can double back down the gravel drive to the main road.

Kylo presses the gas and steers like he knows what he’s doing. It’s the best he’s got. It will have to be enough.

“He’s getting back in his truck, he’s, fuck, he’s starting it up!” Hux is flipped around front to back in his seat, clinging to the headrest as he watches through the back window. “Kylo, he’s following us with his lights off.”

Kylo is nearly to the gap in the trees now. The wet ground slows the car down, but the grass is thick and the wheels aren’t sinking in, not yet. This place is probably littered with nails and shreds of metal that will fuck up the Silencer’s tires. Whatever. At least he’ll be alive instead of serving as a virgin blood sacrifice for Old Man Sheev or whoever the fuck would wear a hooded black cloak to check on a field of junkyard cars in the middle of the night.

When he gets to the gap in the trees, Kylo has to make a turn so tight that the Silencer threatens to spin. The memories of the car crash with Rey fill him up like salt water. His body remembers the whirl of the crash, along with everything else his mind has tried to forget.

The Silencer shoots through the gap in the trees, but Kylo brakes before he can turn it in the driveway to whip around towards the main county road. He’s dissociating, falling back to that other moment two years ago when he needs to be here, now, to drive.

Then Hux puts his hand on Kylo’s shoulder, and Kylo comes back to himself with a shuddering breath. Back to this moment, with Hux. He slams the car into reverse and turns it towards the county road, gravel like shrapnel against the undercarriage.

“Good, Kylo,” sighs Hux with relief, as Kylo hits the accelerator and pulls them out of the junkyard.

The county road is pitch dark, the houses along it left to decay decades ago. The Silencer’s lights are the only illumination aside from the moon.

“Tell me where to go, Hux,” says Kylo, letting out his breath for the first time in too long.

Hux doesn’t say anything for a moment. His breaths are harsh, and he’s kneeling in his seat, facing the rear car window, tense as a spring.

“He’s still following us,” Hux hisses. “He’s got his lights off, so I can’t get his plate number. What kind of madman drives with his lights off, oh, _fuck_!”

This last swear comes as the pickup truck flashes its high beams, right on Kylo’s tail.

“Shit. Okay, Hux, navigate for me. Get us somewhere public. He’s not going to follow us into a town. He just wants us to leave.”

“I’m sending you to Ilum. There are 24-hour stores there.”

“Ilum. Across the state line? I know where it is. Luke held a summer camp there once.” Irrelevant, but Kylo is too wired to filter his speech. The road twists around ponds and hills and knots of forest, and every sharp turn sends Kylo’s stomach into his throat, like he’s sixteen again, riding in the Falcon and preparing to make the biggest mistake of his life.

“Yes. Follow signs for Massachusetts. We can’t be more than twenty minutes out. Less, at the speed you’re going. Don’t slow down,” Hux adds, as though Kylo might mistake that for criticism of his driving.

The long road out of Exegol is half the distance to Ilum, though, and the hope of encountering even one other car on that road is slim. The pickup is still riding Kylo’s tail. If it tries to run them off the road, they’re fucked. They’ll have to flee into the woods and pray the junkyard stranger doesn’t have a gun.

Could Old Man Sheev really drive like this? The last time Kylo saw him in person was when Kylo was a little boy, and Sheev was a shell of a man even then, barely able to hold a glass of water.

And what kind of cultist wears a black cloak out in a junkyard at midnight? That wasn’t a Halloween costume. Kylo knows clothes, and that cloak was the real deal.

Hux is still twisted around in his seat, his eyes fixed on the truck behind them. Occasionally Hux winces or swears when the truck flashes its high beams and washes Kylo’s rearview mirror in nuclear white. The truck’s engine roars like a beast. Kylo gives the gas pedal all he can, and tries to steer with control.

Then, ahead, at last, there’s the state highway. A semi-truck is trundling by, a blissful sign of civilization. When Kylo makes the turn onto the state route, the pickup vanishes from behind him as though it was never there.

They’ve escaped. They’ve made it.

Ilum awaits ahead. It’s a sleepy Massachusetts hamlet locally famous for its annual Christmas market and its gem-and-crystal emporium. It’s the sort of town where nothing bad has ever happened, and there’s no place else tonight that Kylo would rather be.

Kylo will pull into the 24-hour gas station mini-mart and refill his tank. They’ll calm themselves down. They’ll figure things out from there.

Hux takes a while to relax. Once in a while, Kylo catches him glancing over his shoulder, but they’re alone on the road aside from an occasional car or truck passing in the other direction, heading south towards the City.

“Who _was_ that?” Hux asks after a few minutes. “Was that Rey’s grandfather? I heard he was physically incapacitated.”

“I have no idea,” says Kylo honestly. “It could have been Old Man Sheev. I wouldn’t put anything past him. Every time I think he’s gone for sure, he comes back into my life in some fucking bizarre way.”

“Is, ah, is Sheev known for wearing hooded cloaks? I’m not comfortable with that.”

“Like I said. No clue. That was fucked, though. I’m never going back to that place. I don’t care if Phasma needs a whole army’s worth of hubcap helmets.”

Hux lets his breath out at the mention of Phasma, like he’d forgotten about the rest of the world for as long as it took them to flee to relative safety. Kylo had forgotten everything else, too, except the doomed Falcon and Rey, terrible Rey.

“You’ve saved us again,” says Hux. His shoulders are bent now in silent laughter, his hand on his forehead where his hair has fallen into his eyes again. “This is a hell of a night.”

“I put us in that mess. And the other mess at school, too. Saving you doesn’t count if I’m the one who put you in danger.”

“I can withstand danger,” says Hux, which is true. Hux could probably survive anything, an earthquake, an explosion, a plane crash, a gunshot to the chest. Imagining him victorious in all those situations warms Kylo even in the chilly night.

“Eyes on the road, please,” says Hux with a dry quirk of his mouth.

Kylo’s face heats up even as he obeys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings:
> 
> Kylo deliberately crashes a car while Rey is in it. No suicidal intent, but there is homicidal intent...this is Kylo we're talking about.
> 
> Description of an event in Kylo's past where he harmed himself (again without suicidal intent) as a result of an episode of mental illness. There’s a mention of blood. Kylo is not kind to himself about his psychological difficulties. Ableist language, unforgiving view of self, etc.
> 
> Snoke is creepy towards Kylo in a canon-typical, psychologically abusive way.
> 
> Brief allusion to abuse of police power (Vader is an evil cop in canon, after all, and that holds here as well).
> 
> -
> 
> The song they're listening to in the car is "Insight" by Joy Division, which, incidentally, is where the title of this fic comes from.
> 
> Next chapter, posted on Halloween, is when things get romantic.


	3. Ilum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has kissing! And making out! And deeply cringey roleplay! Oh no! 
> 
> Happy Halloween, friendly readers. Thank you very much for your comments, and for sticking with this story.

Not long after that they’re in Ilum.

It’s picturesque in the classic Southern New England postcard way that Kylo would take for granted if he hadn’t just escaped death at the hands of a cloaked madman. The trees are in full autumn glow, with dried leaves raked into piles below some of them. The houses lining the main street have Halloween decorations in their yards, pumpkins and spiderwebs and oversized bats dangling from the eaves. Halloween is Kylo’s favorite holiday, and the sight cheers him.

Best of all, Ilum is well-lit even at night, with ice-white streetlamps in neat rows in front of the shops and parks.

“Do you need petrol?” Hux eyes the 24-hour gas station mini-mart at the edge of the historic part of town.

Kylo nods, and pulls in.

“Stay in the car,” Kylo commands Hux as he gets out to top off his tank. “I’m a fugitive from justice. If anyone finds out I was here, you shouldn’t be associated with me.”

Hux yawns, covering his mouth with one hand as the other finds the door handle. “I’ll take my chances. If I don’t get tea I’ll fall asleep. And I’m famished. No one will arrest me in the little store, whatever you call a place like this.”

“No,” Kylo orders. “Stay. I’ll bring you what you need.”

He’s not sure why he feels strongly about keeping Hux in the Silencer. It’s as if Hux gets out and goes inside without him, some spell will be broken, and Kylo will never get what he wants. But he can’t even admit to himself what he wants from Hux tonight.

The main thing he _will_ admit is that he doesn’t want Hux to leave. Kylo wants him there, sleepy under his greatcoat. He wants to see Hux’s eyes light up when Kylo hands him a hot cup of black tea.

Now, Hux’s face softens, and he almost smiles. “All right, Kylo. I’ll indulge your whims. Get me tea and some sort of pastry.”

“What pastry?”

“I really did want those madeleines at the dance. It’s a shame we had no chance to enjoy what you got for us. You did well at the refreshment table.”

“They don’t have madeleines at Stu’s Quik Mart, Hux. But I’ll get something you’ll like. Rest.”

Back in the driver’s seat, Kylo pulls the Silencer away from the pump and into a parking space. Hux curls under his greatcoat, pressing his bitten cheek against the car window.

Kylo wants to kiss Hux so badly it makes his every muscle hurt like the day after a new workout. But, as always, Kylo doesn’t kiss Hux. Instead, he slams the car door behind him and bounds into the empty, bright, chlorine-scented convenience store.

For himself, Kylo grabs a Monster energy drink and the largest bag of beef jerky on the rack. Hux’s tea will have to be Lipton, which he’ll hate, but America isn’t a tea-drinking country, and Hux knows that by now, even if he doesn’t like it.

The pastry question proves more of a challenge. There are no madeleines, obviously. Instead, there’s a shelf of snack cakes preserved under their plastic wrappers like embalmed relics.

The most madeleine-like item is the sleeve of miniature powdered sugar donuts. Hux would look cute with powdered sugar around his mouth. Kylo could imagine kissing it away, and maybe that would be enough for him. Maybe the fantasy would satisfy him, so he would never have to do it for real.

Below the donuts, though, there are cakes filled with cream or jam, chocolate, vanilla, coconut, and so on. An image flashes into Kylo’s mind of Hux — prim, oblivious Hux — pushing one of these snack cakes into his mouth, sliding the plastic wrapper down. Kylo braces himself against the display and lets the metal of the frame dig into his palm. He wills the image away from his mind before his knees can shake.

One is vanilla cake, filled with raspberry jam and dusted with powdered sugar. Hux will hate the implication, a Twinkie for a twink. Maybe he’ll want to fight with Kylo about it.

Fuck it, Kylo thinks, and grabs four.

To Kylo’s surprise, Hux says nothing about the homoerotic connotations of Kylo’s snack cake choices. He makes a face at the weak tea, but when Kylo drops the cakes onto the coat in his lap, Hux’s expression is one of delight.

“They’re like Victoria sponge,” Hux enthuses. He unwraps a cake and presses it to his tongue. The effect is as Kylo anticipated. Kylo wishes he had a coat to lay over his own lap.

Kylo takes a deep breath and pulls the Silencer out of the parking lot. There’s a park down the street, across from the crystal emporium. They can have a midnight picnic under one of the park’s gnarled ancient trees, hidden in the shadows where no one can see them. Not that there’s anyone out in Ilum after midnight.

When they’re parked, to Kylo’s astonishment, Hux wants to look in the windows of the crystal store. Hux exits the car in a hurry and leaves his tea behind, so Kylo brings along the paper cup as he follows Hux across the asphalt to the store.

The lights are off inside, but a few pink salt lamps shed a pleasant reddish glow across the window displays. Geodes, crystal points, and fossils rest elegantly on drapes of snow-white silk.

“That one is acceptable, isn’t it?” Hux points at a large chunk of green stone. It has many points on the top, like the battlements of a castle.

Kylo shrugs. “Why do you want to look at crystals, anyway? You hate places like this.”

Hux’s lips twist cryptically. “Perhaps I’ve developed a sudden fascination with geology.”

“For real, Hux. You mocked Principal Holdo for months after you saw the crystals in her office. What changed?”

Hux clicks his tongue. “I haven’t gotten you a birthday present yet. I was hoping you’d give me some ideas. Play along, please.”

“You think I want a crystal? That’s like something my uncle would have in his house.”

“Well. Excuse me for making an effort. You can’t blame me for thinking you’d like one. You’re interested in mysticism and the occult on your own, in spite of Luke.”

Hux isn’t wrong, but something about his gift-giving gesture makes Kylo bristle. Kylo hadn’t gotten Hux a present when Hux turned eighteen back in September, and wouldn’t have a clue what to get him — some book of military history, maybe, but Hux already has too many of those. Giving each other birthday presents isn’t what friends do for each other. Friends hang out and eat cake and watch movies, and make fun of each other for getting old. They don’t spend weeks trying to pick out the perfect gift.

Maybe it’s different in England. Maybe Hux is being Hux, being a perfectionist, the way he is with everything else. Hux doesn’t understand how friendship works. He’s crossing a line without knowing the line is there.

If Kylo didn’t _want_ Hux so badly, didn’t want desperately for Hux to cross every line Kylo has ever drawn to separate himself from the world, it wouldn’t matter, and Kylo wouldn’t be standing on a sidewalk in Massachusetts holding Hux’s cup of shitty tea and getting mad about a stupid crystal.

“That one is cool,” Kylo says at last. There’s a long red crystal next to one of the salt lamps, bathed in light that makes it look like it’s glowing. Kylo leans closer. The red crystal has a dark crack deep inside it, which is badass. It’s familiar to him, like he’s seen it somewhere else, long ago. Like it belonged to him in a previous life.

That’s silly, though. Hux doesn’t want to hear Kylo’s metaphysical intuitions. He’s bent at the waist to look at the cracked crystal now, his red-gold hair shining in the salt lamp’s cozy glow.

“If you want it, it’s yours,” Hux offers, glancing up at Kylo. “Mummy is bringing me to Ilum on Wednesday when she works the farmer’s market. I’ll get it then. Nothing else to do while I wait for her to sell her bread.”

Kylo doesn’t say anything, because what is there to say when Hux is being nice? Hux should be insulting him for his mystical beliefs, like he usually does. Then Kylo could call Hux a small-minded idiot blind to the secret mysteries of the universe, and they’d go from there, trading barbs the way they always do. Instead, Hux is being lovely, and Kylo can’t be kind to him in return, because then Hux will see how Kylo really feels, and Hux will _know_.

Hux draws his eyebrows together, purses his lips. “Do you like it, or are you merely trying to make me feel better after I’ve humiliated myself with this uncharacteristic gesture of affection?”

This breaks Kylo from his suspended state. “No, no, Hux, I mean. Your idea was good. I like that one a lot. That crack inside. It’s fucking sick. I love it, actually.”

Hux’s face relaxes, but he twitches his nose when Kylo says “love.” Kylo should have expected that, because he should have known better than to say that word around Hux. Even if he was only talking about a crystal.

“Then it’s yours.”

Hux turns away from the window display, standing at the edge of the curb with his hands clasped at the small of his back. The wind is picking up. The black edge of Hux’s coat catches the air and ripples behind him. To Kylo, Hux looks like the conquerer of an unexplored land, as though the whole planet lies before him to use as he wills.

Kylo steps forward to stand beside him. Then something cold hits the tip of his big nose. He glances up. In the sky, swirls of white flakes are falling down and down through the black. It’s begun to snow.

“That’s inconvenient to our plans,” says Hux, tight-lipped as he gazes into space. “Back to the Silencer, I suppose.”

But Kylo remembers the town park in Ilum. There’s a stream where Leia used to take him to skip stones when he was small, back before she started treating Kylo like he didn’t exist. Next to the stream, there’s a stone folly with a bench inside it, where he and Hux will be able to sit and watch the snow fall.

“No. I know what to do. Follow me.”

Hux takes his tea from Kylo’s hand. Kylo is sorry to let go of the warm cup. The can of Monster in his other hand is punishingly cold, even with the plastic bag of jerky wrapped around it as insulation.

Then something warm replaces the cup of tea in Kylo’s hand and. It’s Hux. It’s Hux’s hand.

Kylo freezes. This isn’t like when they held hands tonight to face down Snoke. Or in ninth grade when Kylo went through that palm-reading phase and used it as an excuse to run his fingers along every surface of Hux’s hand while telling him his destiny would be glorious. Or in tenth grade after the car crash, in the hospital, when Hux took Kylo’s hand to inspect the place where the IV needles were stuck into his skin. Or last April when Hux put his fingers over Kylo’s on the controller to show him how to shoot properly in Phasma’s Galaxy Massacre videogame. All the times he and Hux have touched each other flash through Kylo’s head, a reel of every private moment Kylo has clung to alone at night for all these years.

This time is different. This is deliberate, with nothing to excuse it, and Hux looks up at Kylo with a thread of amusement on his lips and something like triumph in his eyes.

“Go on,” prompts Hux with a raise of his eyebrows. “Lead the way.”

Kylo hasn’t opened his drink yet, but a surge of energy travels up his body. He can’t stay still anymore, he can’t even proceed to the folly at a reasonable walking pace. He turns and races through the dark, still holding Hux’s hand, and Hux shouts something about spilling his tea even as he keeps pace with Kylo along the paths of the park.

The folly is in the shape of a miniature Roman temple, lashed with ivy and crumbling at the edges. Kylo skids across the floor to the bench inside, pulling Hux after him. It’s a small bench, and their knees touch even as they sit on opposite ends.

“You’re insane,” says Hux wryly. “I could understand if I took your hand and you ran away from me at the very thought. But you ran away without letting go of my hand.”

Hux lifts their joined hands and, with an inquiring expression, presents them to Kylo as evidence.

“I needed to run. I had too much energy,” Kylo counters, popping the tab on his can of Monster.

Hux glances down at the can with disdain where it sits between them on the bench. “I won’t point out the irony here,” he says, to point it out.

Freeing his hand from Kylo’s, Hux takes his snack cakes from his coat pocket to unwrap another one. The sugar across his lips matches the snowflakes that dust his greatcoat’s structured shoulders.

Kylo has no idea what to do, what it means that Hux wanted to hold his hand. What he is and isn’t allowed to do with Hux now that this new thing has happened.

Hux watches the snow. The flakes clump together as they fall, pale as stars. They’re sticking, or starting to, turning the October landscape to winter. The stream in front of the folly is white where it foams loudly over the rocks, and the tops of the rocks are already crowned with frost.

But Kylo doesn’t want to watch the snow. He takes a long slug of Monster and watches Hux instead.

After a suspended moment, Hux turns away from the scene. He picks up his cup of tea and the two remaining snack cakes from the bench and places them on the folly’s stone floor, next to his feet.

When Hux straightens his spine again, he sits stiffly, as if poised to flee. Kylo can hear Hux’s shallow breaths.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” says Hux matter-of-factly, staring straight ahead. “You are free to refuse, with no shame or sense of obligation. Otherwise, I will proceed with my strategy to—”

Hux breaks off into silence and glances at Kylo.

Kylo’s heart thuds like distant artillery. It’s as though his body is someone else’s when he raises his hands to cup Hux’s face. Hux’s eyes are wide and black as outer space, and Kylo fell long ago but somehow, somehow he’s still falling.

Then their lips are together, and Kylo can taste sugar, and jam, and, underneath the sweetness, he tastes the blood on Hux’s lips from where Rose Tico punched him in the face outside the homecoming dance. It’s Hux’s taste, and Kylo wants everything Hux will give him, always.

Kylo doesn’t know if it’s a good kiss by any conventional definition. But it’s Hux, which makes it by far the best thing to ever happened to him. For five years Kylo imagined this moment nearly every day. The reality is light-years better than he ever imagined it. He wants to kiss Hux again, and again, and possibly never stop.

Then Hux opens his mouth and flicks his tongue across Kylo’s lips. Kylo lunges forward into the feeling until their teeth clack together. Hux moans.

Kylo pulls back. “Are you okay?”

“Christ, Kylo, yes, of course I’m okay,” hisses Hux, his expression murderous. “That was brilliant. Just fucking kiss me.”

Kylo has pictured this a lot of ways, but he’s never thought of Hux saying those words to him. Wanting him.

Kylo tosses his drink to the ground and pulls Hux into his arms with such force that it knocks the breath from Hux’s chest in the most charming squeak. Hux is kissing him again, slow and hot, with his cold hands tangled in Kylo’s hair. He’s kissing Kylo like Kylo tastes delicious, with soft little licks against Kylo’s mouth.

Then Hux bites down on Kylo’s lower lip. Kylo never knew pain could be so good. He makes a noise before he can help it, and Hux pulls away to look at him. Hux’s expression is dark, victorious. Powerful.

“You’re gorgeous, Kylo,” he spits, like it makes him angry to admit it.

“Hux,” Kylo whispers, because when Hux says his name it’s the best feeling in the world, and Kylo wants to give that to Hux too. “Hux, I, I’m—”

“You’re in love with me,” says Hux, because he always has to be right, the little prick. “Yes, yes, I’m in love with you too. I have been for two years and four months. More, if I take into account the months when I was in love with you and hadn’t realized it yet.”

This, of all the shocks of the night, is the one that strikes Kylo like no other, hitting him in the gut so hard he can’t get his breath. The revelation must show on his face, because Hux bites back a laugh that still shines harsh in his eyes.

“You didn’t know? Kylo, you fool. But I'm as bad as you are. I didn’t know you felt the same either, until tonight.”

On the stone bench, Kylo’s broad thigh is pressed against Hux’s slim one. Hux’s hands are in Kylo’s hair still, and Kylo’s hands are spread against Hux’s back. He slides them down to Hux’s waist, and Hux shivers, his hips twitching forward and his lips falling open.

Kylo kisses him again, slower this time, because they have time. Because there’s no one coming to find them in Ilum, and so they have the rest of the night to kiss each other. They have the rest of their lives to make up for the years they’ve spent in foolish pining.

“You’ve never done this before either, right?” Kylo asks when they part to catch a breath.

Hux snorts, abashed. “Kissing? Kylo, are you joking? I never thought I’d kiss anyone. I’m abrasive and cold, and I lecture at people instead of carrying on proper conversations. I thought I’d be a virgin until I was thirty-five, at least.”

This strikes Kylo as implausible, considering Hux’s intelligence, his determination, his beauty. Kylo’s disbelief must show, because Hux’s cheeks darken and he tightens his hands into nervous fists on his knees.

Like a challenge, Hux murmurs, “I never wanted to kiss anyone until you.”

Kylo lays his hands like blankets over Hux’s cold little fists. In his wrecked, twisted, emotionally desolate hellscape of a life, it’s beyond belief that Kylo has managed to do something to make Armitage Hux not only kiss him, but also, somehow, fall in love.

“Why did you kiss me tonight?” Kylo’s voice is rough, and he slides his thumbs over Hux’s wrists, enjoying the way it makes Hux shift his body closer to Kylo’s.

“I figured it out.” Of course Hux figured everything out, the master strategist. “When Rey confronted us outside the dance. She was behaving unusually, like she knew something about you that she wouldn’t say outright. When I told her we had other plans for the evening, she went mad. She must have known for years what I only allowed myself to see now.”

“What? That I’m pathetic? Obsessed with you?”

Kylo can’t keep from reminding Hux of his flaws, like he’s testing Hux’s feelings. He hates himself for saying it. As if he hasn’t tested Hux enough in all these years of being his friend.

Hux’s nose scrunches his disapproval. “That’s not how I’d characterize it. I’d say you’ve been devoted. In spite of all we’ve suffered, you’ve always had time for me. You’ve indulged my odd interests and let me speak to you about them. You’re the only person who doesn’t find me frightful to be around. I never understood it. Now I do.”

Hux flips his hands palm-up and spreads his fingers under Kylo’s. He sighs. Lifts his face to stare into Kylo’s eyes.

Except during fights, Hux has never been one for eye contact. Kylo has trouble catching Hux’s eye during the frequent moments at school when he wants to share a private joke at someone else’s expense. Hux tends to gaze into the distance, eyes fixed on a glorious future that others lack the skill to conjure in their imaginations.

Now Hux studies Kylo’s face as though the secret future in his mind has Kylo in it.

They kiss again, and this time it feels like an initiation. Like sealing a pact.

“It’s getting cold,” says Hux after the kiss.

“Hold on to me to keep warm,” Kylo offers. He puts his arms around Hux again. But Hux shakes his head.

“Not now. It’s cold enough that it’s no longer wise for us to expose ourselves to the elements. I don’t have my hat with me, and I can’t feel my ears anymore. That’s fine for you, of course, but those of us not gifted by nature with an excess of ear tissue must take measures to preserve our existing resources.”

Hux pinches the tip of his own ear as if to illustrate his point. It’s pink from the cold. Kylo leans forward and kisses it.

“I’ve told you, I can’t feel it,” says Hux, but his breath hitches when Kylo rakes his teeth along the edge.

Kylo reaches for his own ears to ensure they’re covered with his hair. He’s touchy about their size. He would be upset at Hux for making fun of them, except that Hux is in love with him, which means Hux, against all reason, must like Kylo’s big ears.

That’s an idea Kylo will need time to get used to.

“Back to the Silencer,” Kylo says. “I’ll turn on the heat. The seats have heaters in them. Did you know that?”

“Yes, Kylo, you’ve only told me twenty times about every facet of your car’s Chandrila decadence.” Hux collects his tea and cakes from the folly’s floor. “Don’t forget your drink.”

The can of Monster is spilled and crushed and sticky. Kylo leaves it in the trash bin at the edge of the park. After kissing Hux, he doesn’t need it. He couldn’t sleep tonight if he tried.

The Silencer warms up quickly, and soon it’s hot inside, the leather seats damp with melted snow. Hux pulls off his greatcoat. The smear of blood still mars the sleeve of his Oxford. Kylo leans across the console to mouth at it, which draws a sharp laugh from Hux.

“I should have known you’d be a vampire,” he says. “Happy Halloween to me.”

Kylo moves his mouth to Hux’s neck, kissing gently with his lips open, and the skin there tastes as spectacular as Kylo always imagined it would.

Hux makes a sound like he’s falling apart, a stuttering moan that’s halfway to a scream of pure surrendered pleasure. Kylo pulls back. He didn’t expect that.

“Fuck, Kylo, ah, I didn’t know anything could feel like that.” Hux’s hands are braced against the door and the headrest, fingers tense, lips bitten. “I didn’t mean to scream.”

“I want you to scream for me,” Kylo says, before he realizes how that sounds. His ears flush hot below his hair.

Hux lets out a shocked little burst of laughter, but his pupils blow wide in spite of the light pouring from the streetlamp above.

“We ought to get in the back, then,” says Hux. “It’s most likely against the law, but so is everything else we’ve done recently.”

He pushes past Kylo and into the backseat, then adds, “We’re not having sex yet. I don’t have prophylactics and I haven’t done enough research.”

This is a relief to Kylo. For his part, he isn’t ready to have sex either, not on the same night as his first kiss. He savors the sight of Hux’s long body stretched across the Silencer’s backseat. His hair is disheveled, shirt bloody, cheek bitten, eyes bright with a hunger that, by some grace, is meant for Kylo alone.

Kylo gives a silent thanks to whatever force in the universe brought them together. Then he hops over the console and collapses on top of Hux.

Hux makes another pretty noise, squirming under Kylo and kissing him on his nose, his chin, his scar. “Kylo,” he whispers between kisses. “Kylo.”

“Love you,” Kylo mumbles, and immediately hides his face in Hux’s shoulder, hating himself for saying it. Hux smells nice, like unscented detergent, like bitter black tea. Like snow.

Kylo wonders for a moment if Hux will do something wild in response, like running away or spitting in his face or declaring his love for Kylo over and over again.

But impulsivity is Kylo’s domain. Hux only tenses against Kylo’s chest, then arches up, snuggling against him. He takes a deep breath and tugs lightly at Kylo’s hair.

“I know that now, you fool. Why didn’t you tell me before? We could have been doing this all along.”

Hux parts his legs, and brings one up to press his calf to the back of Kylo’s thighs, as if to demonstrate what they could have been doing.

“Fuck, Hux.” He feels amazing underneath Kylo. His body is warm. Hux is slender, but he’s soft in all the right places.

Kylo pushes up on his elbows to get a look at Hux’s face, while he searches himself for an answer to Hux’s question. “I thought you would have said something if you wanted me. Hux. I’ve been in love with you since you moved here in seventh grade. How did you not know? I thought you didn’t want me.”

“You at least knew I wasn’t heterosexual, which is more than I can say of you!” Hux knots his hands in the front of Kylo’s ragged scarf, pushes his fists against Kylo’s chest. “I honestly thought you were still caught up in your uncle’s cult propaganda about how sex and love are corrupting influences. Was it impossible to simply tell me how you felt?”

“I thought you would never want me,” Kylo repeats. The many reasons Hux shouldn’t want him are clear in Kylo’s mind all of a sudden. “I’m a criminal. My body is disfigured. I see things that aren’t there. I damage everything I touch.”

Hux draws his eyebrows together. There’s a look of fixed determination on his face that Kylo has only seen when Hux has been working out problems for his science homework, or reading about atomic weapons.

“Kylo Ren, look at me. I don’t care about any of it. You could be a truly terrible person. A war criminal. A barbarous military dictator with an irredeemable history and no allies left in the universe. And I would still be in love with you.”

Something dark and new flares in Hux’s eyes as he says this. Kylo stops, studying his face.

Hux bares his teeth, bold, like he’s never been this honest in his life. Like he truly would put everything on the line for Kylo. Hux wants Kylo, even at his worst. Maybe especially then.

An ache melts through Kylo’s chest, some nameless obstacle dissolving within him.

Hardly able to believe his own daring, Kylo says with a sharp grin, “You...you would _like_ that, wouldn’t you?”

Hux exhales sharply, caught. He turns his face to the side, his eyes fluttering shut. Kylo kisses his cheek.

Against Hux’s skin, Kylo whispers, “You _would_ like it. Imagine. I’m the supreme leader of an empire. My power has no match or precedent. We could rule together. Ruthless.”

“Kylo, that’s unethical. It’s historically insensitive.” Hux’s breaths are quicker now. His eyes move rapidly behind his shut lids.

Kylo puts his hand on Hux’s throat, pressing lightly, stroking him.

“It’s hot, though.” Kylo murmurs this, too, against Hux’s face.

“Oh, absolutely, it’s _so_ hot.” When Hux says it, it sounds like an oath.

“You’d wear your uniform.”

Hux’s next breath comes out as a whine of need. He pushes his neck against Kylo’s palm, inviting him to press harder.

“Our empire will be strong,” says Kylo, not caring if he sounds foolish when Hux is coming apart so beautifully in his arms.

Hux’s eyes snap open. He’s biting his lip, looking up at Kylo fiercely, wildly, like he’s never seen anything more worthwhile in his life.

“Yes, Supreme Leader,” says Hux, breathless. Breathtaking.

Kylo believes in miracles at that moment, because an intervention from the universe is the only possible reason he doesn’t come in his pants at the sound of those three words.

He pulls his hand away from Hux’s skin — Hux feels too good, too soft and hot and breakable underneath him, and it’s too much. But Hux hisses and grabs Kylo roughly under the chin.

“Don’t stop touching me,” Hux orders, or begs. “Put your hands on my neck again. Don’t choke me, don’t be a brute, just — it feels good.”

Kylo obeys. He runs his thumbs over the bump of cartilage on Hux’s throat, up to his soft jaw, amazed at how Hux’s eyes go unfocused at the first touch. It’s automatic, easy, so unlike Hux, and it makes Kylo feel supernaturally powerful to be the cause of it. Hux presses his hips against Kylo’s. He’s losing his composure, and Kylo can’t understand how he’s the one who’s allowed do this to Hux, to please him to the point of surrender.

“Nnnh, Kylo, ah, Supreme Leader, I can’t wait to wear my uniform for you. You can do anything you like to me.”

Kylo stops breathing for a few seconds.

“Hux, you can’t talk like that now or I’ll. You know.”

Kylo makes a splashing gesture. He’s embarrassed, but he also suspects Hux won’t mind.

Hux struggles up on his elbows, looking appalled and delighted and triumphant, all at once. “Do you mean orgasm? From my words alone?”

“Just, you, your uniform, your—”

“I hoped you would like it when I picked it out. I thought we’d match, in a science fiction sort of way.”

That makes Kylo want to tangle into Hux with all his strength, kiss him deeply, and give him everything he asks for until the end of time. Kylo does his best. The whole town of Ilum would have to collapse in flames before he would let Hux out of his arms.

They stay like that, kissing each other and talking about their plans, while the night deepens and the snow piles up on the Silencer’s windshield.

After a measureless amount of time, something buzzes against Kylo’s hip.

“Phasma,” Hux pronounces, and reaches into his pocket for his phone.

Hux has nearly all the numbers in his phone set to mute. Only Phasma, Kylo, and his mother are permitted to disturb him with vibrating notifications. It’s not Hux’s mother texting now, as she has no reason to assume Hux isn’t at Brendol’s house tonight. Even if the school has called her about her son’s involvement in the fight, Asta wouldn’t be awake. She falls asleep early for her morning shifts at the Arkanis Artisan Bakery.

Kylo, for his part, turned his phone off the moment he pulled out of Leia’s driveway. His parents only ever call him to yell at him, and he’s eighteen now. He doesn’t have to listen to their shit anymore.

“Incredible,” Hux breathes, his voice rich with sadistic awe. He’s scrolling through Phasma’s texts. “Kylo, turn on your phone. You’ve got to read these. Everything at school went to ruins after we made our exit.”

“Because of our fight?” The texts must be to their three-way group message, but Kylo wants to hear the news from Hux. He doesn’t want to lift his head from where he’s resting on Hux’s chest. It’s too good, the way Hux is stroking his hair.

“No, no, Kylo, we’re absolved.” Hux sounds as if he can hardly believe it. “We’re redeemed. Our fight is insignificant in light of this greater catastrophe.”

“I’m not turning on my phone. Tell me what happened.”

“The DJ they hired for the dance, he was a criminal. A hacker. He got into the administration offices and cleaned out a school bank account.”

“Holy shit.”

Kylo tilts his head to look up at Hux. He kisses Hux’s chin, and Hux hums with pleasure.

“I’m requesting the full report from Phasma. There was other damage, too. Wait, she’s just sent me—” Hux breaks off and sits up slightly, his eyes shining with his phone’s blue light and the spark of an idea. “Kylo, would you have any interest in attending an afterparty at Phasma’s?”

Three hours ago, Kylo would rather have snorted his grandfather’s ashes than entertained the idea of going to anyone’s homecoming afterparty, ever. But three hours ago, Kylo had been in a junkyard in Exegol fleeing Creepy Sheev and his mysterious murder cult, and now Kylo is in Ilum with Hux’s long legs wrapped around his waist. Tonight there’s nothing Kylo couldn’t take on and win. The gleam in Hux’s eyes tells him Hux feels the same.

The Resistance will be there, of course — Phasma is friends with everyone, in part because she’s too fearsome for anyone to drag her into petty social conflict. But Kylo isn’t afraid to face the Resistance kids. The fight cleared the air, defused the tension. Their fights always do. The fact that this one came to blows for the first time only makes it easier to move on from it. They’re all even. Everyone knows where things stand now.

Kylo isn’t even worried about Rey. She won’t rekindle her old obsession with him, or try to get revenge for the car crash. Not now that they both have friends of their own. Kylo was always alone with Rey before, when their issues would build to a hellish pitch that brought out the worst in both of them. When Kylo was living with Luke, there were months when Rey was the closest person in his life, and, even though she’s always been toxic for him, Kylo needed her, needed their bond. He didn’t have anyone else.

Now he has Hux. If he goes to the party, he’ll have Phasma too, along with anyone else who feels like forgiving his fuck-ups temporarily, until the next time Kylo fucks up. But even when he fucks up again, he’ll still have Hux.

Kylo gives Hux one final kiss, before pushing up and off of him.

“Help me clear the windows. Tell Phasma we’ll be there in thirty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter tomorrow!


	4. Chandrila

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter!
> 
> There's background Rey/Phasma and Finn/Poe in this chapter, but also, it's high school, so, no need to take it seriously if those ships are not for you. Everyone shares affection freely, except for our two repressed and inseparable antiheroes, who are affectionate only with each other.

On the dark road back to Chandrila, Hux turns the music high enough that the drums and synths shake the dashboard like enemy fire.

Thinking out loud, Kylo wishes he hadn’t forgotten his bag of jerky on the bench at the park. So Hux unwraps one of his last two snack cakes and shoves it into Kylo's mouth as he drives. They laugh so hard that Kylo ends up with powdered sugar all over the steering wheel and the front of his black quilted jacket. Because every decision tonight has been wild and perfect, Kylo decides to open the sunroof to let the snow in, and he leaves it open until they’re both shivering and snowy. Hux spreads his hand out across the top of Kylo’s leg, and Kylo pretends to run off the road. Hux screams.

Only half joking, Kylo says, “That’s what your attentions do to me. They make me lose control.”

“You don’t need my help to lose the sole scrap of control you ever had in your possession,” Hux fires back. He rests his head on Kylo’s shoulder and digs his nails into Kylo’s thigh.

It’s a distraction to have Hux’s hand there, especially with snow melting on the roads, but Kylo isn’t going to tell him to stop for mere safety’s sake. Not when Hux has a deadly note in his voice, like he’s got a strategy for their night together. Kylo has waited years to figure into Hux’s plans. His own plan is to enjoy this privilege while it lasts.

“Everyone will see us like this,” whispers Hux. “They’ll all know you’re mine. Won’t they be surprised to see how weak, odd, vicious Hux ended up with such a catch? You’re the one everyone wants, you know.”

“That’s not true.” Kylo’s face burns. The heat only makes him more aware of the dead tissue of his scar. “You’re a pretty boy and a genius. I scare people.”

“And yet. Rey and Poe are both eating out of your hand.”

“Poe?! Poe has a thing for _you_ , Hugs.” 

Hux curls his lip and pushes his shoulders back. “That name is loathsome even coming from you. At any rate, you enjoy being scary. Don’t act self-deprecating. You’re far too arrogant to get away with it.”

Kylo has worried, in the past, that if he ever revealed his feelings to Hux, it would destroy their prickly banter and replace it with something strained and saccharine and inauthentic. He should have known better. Hux insults everyone, even his own mother, even his cat.

It’s a relief that nothing has changed between them. Nothing except Hux’s hand on Kylo’s thigh, and the new knowledge of how Hux’s lips taste, bloody and sweet.

“You’re the one who told me you want to show me off. You’re feeding my arrogance. I’ll take over the school and bend it to my will. You’ve made me into a monster, Hux.”

Hux sniffs. He props his feet on the Silencer’s dashboard, his long legs folded in an uncomfortable-looking way.

“You were already a monster, Kylo Ren.”

Kylo laughs, showing his teeth.

They’ve made it to the roundabout to enter Phasma’s neighborhood, Parnassos Heights. Kylo takes the circle at full speed on the icy road, like a stunt driver. It’s insane, idiotic, suicidal, but this is the way Kylo gets when too many emotions are coursing through his body like dark magic.

The car stays on the road, doesn’t slide. Thank fuck. Kylo doesn’t actually want to die. He wants to live forever, right up at the edge of danger, without falling over it.

Hux, in response, clenches his fingertips into Kylo’s thigh hard enough to bruise. The pain of it is better than a kiss. Kylo deserves it for driving this way, but he wants it, too. Hux should leave little bruises over every inch of Kylo's skin, anywhere he likes.

Kylo slams the Silencer a quarter mile past Phasma’s house at dizzying speed, and swings into a long, death-defying U-turn to pull into her broad driveway. Phasma’s house is a palatial new build at the top of a hill, with two garages, fake Grecian columns, and a backyard that slopes down to the shore of Lake Chandrila. Hand in hand, they take the hill at a run.

Hux calls Phasma to summon her to let them in, but before she can pick up her phone, Kylo slams the door open and stomps into the entry hall. His combat boots track muddy snow all over the marble floor. Above, a crystal chandelier still trembles with the force of Kylo’s door slam.

Hux wipes his shoes on the mat, wrinkling his nose in Kylo’s direction. “Have some respect for your environs, you little savage.”

Kylo twirls, slides through the trail of snowmelt on the white marble. He falls onto Hux, pinning him to the wall. Hux grabs Kylo’s scarf with both fists when he kisses him deeply. Kylo’s not sure if Hux wants to pull him closer or push him away, but that’s Hux.

Then there’s laughter behind them. It’s Phasma, with Rose and Finn close behind. They halt under the chandelier when they see what they’ve interrupted.

Finn is appalled. Rose rolls her eyes. But Phasma’s expression is one of delight.

“Finally! It only took you half our bloody lives!” 

Hux rounds on Phasma to reply, and in doing so, lets go of Kylo’s scarf. Kylo tumbles back onto the marble, hair falling over his face. He lands on the meatiest part of his ass. No broken bones, but he’ll have a bruise there. Another bruise from Hux tonight. He’s assembling a collection.

“You deserve each other,” Rose spits down at Kylo. “There’s no bigger pair of assholes in the universe.”

Hux looks even better from down here on the floor. Of course Hux didn’t mean to knock Kylo to the ground, but as Kylo looks up at him, his blood inconveniently redirects. Kylo thinks about Exegol to fix his problem, but saves, for later, the image of Hux above him, wearing a pretty sneer that Kylo can imagine is for him instead of for Rose.

Phasma offers Kylo her hand, and pulls him to his feet with such strength that Kylo has to roll his shoulder back to make sure his arm is still in the socket.

“Welcome to the party, boys. I can’t congratulate you enough on your strategically advantageous union.” Phasma winks at Kylo. “Mitaka will be pleased you’re here. I was about to murder him in Galaxy Massacre. Now he’ll die by Rey’s hand instead.”

“Mitaka’s the king now,” says Finn animatedly. “He won homecoming! Phasma, did you tell them? Nobody can figure out how it happened.”

Phasma drapes one arm around Hux’s shoulders and squeezes him close, marching him to the back of the house as the others follow. “Armitage, Kylo, it’s been a night. Much to fill you in on.”

Phasma’s media room overlooks the deck, the backyard, and Lake Chandrila. On the enormous TV, an avatar of Rey is shooting various uniformed aliens in the head, while the real Rey sips one-handed from a large glass bottle of something blue. Poe has his feet in her lap on the leather sofa, and he reaches out to swat Finn’s ass as Finn reclaims his seat under Poe’s head.

Mitaka sits alone on a suede loveseat, face flushed, still clad in the ill-fitting suit he wore at the dance. On his head, there’s a plastic crown. On closer inspection, Kylo sees there are actually two — one crown and one sparkling tiara.

“Queen Kaydel gave me hers before she went with her girlfriend to get more snacks,” Mitaka gushes, noticing Kylo’s stare. “Now I have two. People voted for me! They like me!”

“Long live the king,” says Hux dryly, even as he squeezes Kylo’s hand.

Phasma’s arm is still around Hux’s shoulder. Kylo swings his arm over Phasma’s, making Hux stumble under their weight.

Hux slides his arms around his friends’ waists, and says, with a gleam in his eye, “Take our picture, Tico, if you please. The First Order trio immortalized.”

Rose is crouched in front of the TV. She has her phone out already to take a picture of Phasma’s dog, a wolfhound, but she glares at Hux like he’s ordered her to lick the floor. She flings out her arm, takes a quick photo which will turn out blurry.

“When I post it, I’m tagging you as asshole, metal asshole, and emo asshole,” Rose snaps. “I hope it haunts your web search results for the rest of your miserable lives.”

“I’ll tag you as salutatorian, Tico,” Hux replies, with the coldest of smiles. “Now, Phasma, I insist on a personal briefing. Regale me with the story of our DJ’s crimes.”

“Fuck that guy,” Poe shouts. “He stole my guitar!”

“Yeah, and my violin,” says Finn. “And Rey’s keyboard.”

“And a hundred and fifty thousand dollars from the Academy,” Mitaka squeaks. “That’s why they gave me a plastic homecoming crown instead of a gold one! Not really. That’s a joke.”

“I still have my synthesizer,” Rose says with a grimace, hopping onto the loveseat an appropriate distance from Mitaka. “But otherwise he cleaned us out.”

“You know I bear no great affection for the Resistance project,” Hux begins. “Nevertheless — oh, forget it. You may all be dreadful individuals, but that’s a wretched thing to do to a student band. That DJ is a stain on humanity.”

Kylo, somber, addresses the Resistance kids. “You are bound by the law of vengeance to find and destroy him.”

Finn assesses Kylo for a moment, then gives a nod of approval. “You know I hate your guts, Kylo, but tonight we’re united against a common enemy. Come have a seat.”

“I’m sitting next to Rey,” declares Phasma, breaking from the group. “Budge up, Poe. Your feet are in my way.”

This leaves Kylo with Hux at the corner of the room. Hux is still tucked underneath his arm, slender and warm. His lips are the perfect shape, like they’re asking to be kissed. Kylo hadn’t anticipated how tough it would be to keep himself from touching Hux while everyone else is around. He wants Hux at his side, in his arms, on his lap.

There’s a black beanbag in front of the TV. Kylo falls back on it and pulls Hux with him.

“Get a room,” Finn and Rose shout at the same time, though Kylo and Hux haven’t done anything but fall on each other in a pile of clumsy limbs.

There’s a crescendo of gunfire from the TV speakers. Rey grunts, throws her controller to her lap in triumph. Beside her, Phasma applauds.

“Drat.” Mitaka frowns, handing his controller to Finn. “Rey, you’re way too good at this!”

“There’s a reason they call me the Scavenger,” says Rey, tossing her head.

Her cheeks are flushed from whatever blue drink is in that bottle, and she’s not looking at Kylo or Hux. It occurs to Kylo that this is the first time since their arrival that Rey has spoken.

Kylo doesn’t owe Rey anything — she’s strong, and she walked away from his car crash without a scratch, in spite of his intentions — but all of a sudden it doesn’t feel right to flaunt his happiness in front of her. He thought he’d want to show Hux off to a crowd, and vice versa, but instead it’s like they’re on display. He wants to slide open the glass doors to the deck and take Hux somewhere secret, out into the night, where they can laugh at all these fools under the stars.

Hux is trying to sit straight-backed on the beanbag, which is a funny sight. He’s uncomfortable. He’d rather be elsewhere, too.

Hux leans down to Kylo’s ear. He’s trying to say something to Kylo without too much physical contact. He doesn’t like impropriety, or being on the spot, or mockery. He only tolerates the latter if it’s Kylo mocking him.

“Let’s go to the boathouse,” Hux whispers. “Phasma won’t mind if we’re off on our own.”

Kylo nods. “They’ll think we’re fucking, though.”

“Let them.” Hux straightens his back, locks his fingers in front of him, stretches his arms, and rises to his feet.

Kylo thinks of Rey once more. She has her head on Phasma’s shoulder now, appearing to rest even as she annihilates Finn’s legions of space soldiers. She’ll be fine, Rey will. Maybe she’ll even stop trying to fight Kylo all the time.

As they depart, Poe calls after them, “Hope you freeze your balls off out there!”

Rose mutters something about her own balls being larger than those of anyone affiliated with First Order.

Phasma says, “They’ll keep each other warm,” which makes Poe whistle, even as Rose groans and Rey unleashes a volley of fire on Finn’s videogame soldiers.

Kylo follows Hux out the door to Phasma’s deck. The night above them is wide and dark. The moon has set, and the snow clouds are breaking apart into ragged shreds. It’s not as chilly in Chandrila as it was in Ilum, though. The scant snow has already begun to melt.

Hux leads the way down the slope to the edge of the lake. There’s a narrow path through open woods, so they have to walk single file. In spite of this inconvenience, Hux holds Kylo’s hand.

“Are Rey and Phasma going to get together, do you think? They’ve played Galaxy Massacre together nearly every afternoon this school year.”

Hux says it casually, to make conversation, but every muscle in Kylo’s body tenses at the thought. The worst part is knowing Hux is right.

“I hope not. I’d have to swear a blood oath to Phasma’s destruction. I wouldn’t like that.”

“Phasma is my oldest friend. I will permit you no blood oaths, Kylo.”

Kylo resorts to his old line, his standard complaint against Rey. It’s never worked in the past, but Kylo can never think of anything else to say about Rey. At least, nothing that doesn’t make him seem like an outcast who misses his family, ever since they started loving Rey more than they ever loved Kylo.

“Make sure you tell her Rey doesn’t shower.”

Hux sighs. “Phasma doesn’t shower either, Kylo. Haven’t you smelled her? She’s feral. They’re a match made in hell.”

The path gets steeper close to the lake. Hux’s shoes are unsuited for rough terrain. When Hux pauses at the edge of a puddle of slush, Kylo puts his hands around Hux’s waist and lifts him over it, even as Hux protests.

“I’m not a damsel.” Hux brushes himself off where Kylo’s grip has wrinkled his shirt. “I don’t require chivalry.”

“I’m a knight,” Kylo says. “Whether you require it or not, I will provide.”

Hux takes his hand again, twining his arm into Kylo’s at the elbow. Kylo brings Hux’s hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it. Hux snorts. He’s laughing at Kylo, but he’s pleased, too.

They continue their walk in silence. The path widens. The lake and the boathouse are visible in the dark, through the trees.

“What happened with the DJ, anyway?” Kylo asks, breaking the hush. “Phasma told you in a text before, right?”

“Well, you heard he stole their instruments. He had a team with him. They cleaned out the computer labs. And someone got into Vice Principal Snoke’s office and hacked a bank account and made off with that enormous sum of school funds.”

“Yeah. Hundred and fifty grand, Mitaka said.”

“Correct. What I don’t understand, though, is, how did they hack Snoke? Was his password one-two-three-four, or something? I never assumed Snoke was a cybersecurity genius, but it’s beyond belief that a hacker could perform an elite grade of decryption during a school dance.”

Hux’s questions are rhetorical, of course, but Kylo, to his horror, finds he knows the answers.

“It was ‘Empire'.” Kylo’s voice goes hollow at the memory. “Because he’s from New York. He had it written on a Post-It on his bookshelf. I asked him what it meant and...he told me.” 

Hux’s lips are tight, his face ashen. He restates Kylo’s words. “Our school’s Vice Principal was in the habit of telling students his bank password.”

“He told me I was special,” says Kylo, defeated.

Hux stiffens, as though he’s about to go on one of his rants again. Then he relaxes, shakes his head. Turns his face to the sky.

“Snoke has got to go,” murmurs Hux, gazing to the stars as if in entreaty.

Then the path turns to a short boardwalk, and they’re at the boathouse. It’s opulent even by Kylo’s standards — Phasma’s parents own one of those big military contractor companies Leia is always protesting against. They aren’t shy about flaunting their wealth. Kylo figures they’re trying to give Phasma and her brother luxury goods in place of actual parenting, since Phasma's parents are gone all the time to Riyadh and Moscow and Washington, DC. But Kylo can’t complain about Phasma’s situation. It’s not like Leia would let Kylo throw an unsupervised afterparty at her house.

The boat is a sleek yacht with chrome accents, slumbering under canvas. Hux squeezes past it to the sitting area, where there’s a canvas glider under a sheet of weatherproof plastic. He throws off the covering and pulls Kylo down by the hand to sit close beside him.

“You’re not suited to this environment,” says Hux. He surveys Kylo with an impish smirk. “You ought to be in some gothic palace, or on one of those spaceships you like so much. Not in the town-sized country club that is Chandrila, Connecticut.”

“I can’t have a palace. Mitaka’s already the king.”

Kylo snorts at his own joke, at the absurdity of Dopheld Mitaka serving as homecoming king. Kaydel Ko Connix makes sense as the queen — those braids she wears on her head already look like a crown — but Mitaka? That student council flunkie? A guinea pig would have been a more regal choice.

“Overthrow him.” Hux smiles in his subtle, inviting way that Kylo now recognizes as flirtatious.

“Hollow victory. He’s helpless. An unworthy challenger. How did he even win? Everyone thinks he’s a dweeb.”

“Voting irregularities,” Hux suggests airily. “Foreign election interference.” He cups Kylo’s face with one hand, tugging him closer. “Come now, dark prince. Take me into your world. I want to forget this town.”

“You fit in here.” Kylo might look out of place in Phasma’s luxe boathouse, but Hux doesn’t, not with his sharp grey trousers and pristine shoes. “Like a perfect son of Chandrila.”

Hux scoffs. “I’m not even from this country.”

Kylo ignores this, and puts his own hand on the side of Hux’s face. “Uptight. Nothing out of place on your person.” He strokes Hux’s cheek, eclipses Rose’s bite mark with his thumb. “No one would guess you write songs about blowing up planets.”

“I have a reputation to uphold,” Hux protests, though his mouth quirks in a flattered way at the mention of his songs. “We can’t all be heirs to the Organa-Solo fortune, after all. I’m trying to get out of Arkanis and stake my claim in the world. My appearance is a cornerstone of my professionalism.”

“My little valedictorian,” says Kylo, half teasing, half daring.

Hux’s lips fall open a fraction, his eyes hungry. Kylo should have guessed Hux would get off on being reminded of his own ambitions and achievements.

“Yours?” Hux’s hands are in Kylo’s hair, fingers cold. His face is close to Kylo’s. The lapping of the lake against the boathouse sounds blurry now, far away.

“Mine,” Kylo hisses. “You’ve always been mine, haven’t you, Hux? You saved yourself for me.”

“I had to save myself. No one else was going to save me,” Hux answers with a wry twitch of his lips. He knows what Kylo means, but he’s being difficult, as usual.

“I’d save you,” Kylo says, which is stupid, but it’s out of his mouth before he can stop it.

“Save yourself first, Kylo,” Hux whispers, his nose bumping against Kylo’s. “Please. Promise me you’ll fight against whatever Snoke asks you to do. He’s not a good man. This business with the theft...it will only provoke him to new depths.”

Count on Hux to kill the fucking mood, every time. Kylo pulls away. He kicks the planks of the boathouse floor, and Hux jumps.

Kylo rounds on him. “What about you? As if you have your shit together. What are you going to do when Brendol finds out you got beaten up by a teenage girl?”

He expects this to upset Hux — any mention of Brendol usually draws some ire or angst — but Hux only laughs, once, sharp and bitter.

“He’ll never find out,” Hux says, completely self-assured. “I’ll tell Brendol I was at my mother’s house. I’ll tell Mummy I was with Brendol. I’ve never lied to them about my schedule before. It’s not as though they’ll ever compare stories with each other.”

“You always have a fucking plan, don’t you, Hux?” Kylo sighs deeply. His life might be better if he were more like Hux. But Kylo is only like Hux in one way — they’re both dramatic assholes — so he has to love Hux instead of resembling him.

Hux hums in absent-minded assent, and kicks at the floor, a gentler echo of Kylo’s earlier motion.

“It’s going to be bullshit with Han or Leia,” Kylo admits. “Either they’ll ground me for life or pretend none of it happened.”

“Ground you? For getting in a fight at school? Brendol would give me a medal if I’d been the one to hit Poe in the face. I forget your parents are idealists.”

Kylo sighs once more. “They’re not idealists. They’re just confusing. But they always agree about what a worthless son I am. Why don't they don’t just move in together again, if they have everything in common?”

Hux places a chilly fingertip under Kylo’s chin to push his head up. Hux’s eyes are sad, laced with a flicker of knowing pity. It makes Kylo’s stomach clench.

“Common ground is overrated in relationships,” Hux says crisply, and gives Kylo a soft, slow kiss on the lips.

The tension leaves Kylo’s body as though Hux has brushed it away with his kiss. They kiss for a while, sitting there in the cool darkness by the lake. Kylo brings his hands up to Hux’s neck and strokes gently, enjoying the way each brush of his thumbs makes Hux press closer to him. He vows to learn every way Hux likes to be touched.

But Hux pulls away. At least he seems reluctant to end the kiss — he kisses Kylo twice more before he manages to put any distance between them.

“Your Supreme Leader fantasy,” begins Hux.

Kylo’s body goes hot with shame in an instant. His face twists. He hopes he looks angry rather than mortified. Hux is going to tell him the fantasy is weird, and depraved, and a deal-breaker. Why did Kylo even mention it? It seemed like a good idea back in Ilum, but it was stupid, so stupid. The sincerity of it makes him cringe. That's his downfall, no matter how he tries to change. Kylo Ren: incurable idiot.

Hux asks, his tone even, “How long have you been thinking of it? Is it part of your obsession with science fiction? Have I been in your fantasies?” 

Hux has been in nearly every fantasy Kylo has ever had, but he doesn’t need to know that. Not yet, at least.

“I only want to know,” Hux continues in a rush, “because you were right about me wanting it. You may as well have read my mind. I used to lose hours in daydreams of ruling the world with you. I’d handle everything political while you sowed terror in the populace, and so on. There were many afternoons where my books of military history were open in front of me, but my mind was elsewhere. Some of First Order’s songs—”

But Hux breaks off, and won’t say any more. It’s too dark to see, but Kylo is certain Hux is blushing.

“We’ve wanted the same things all along.”

It’s unfathomable to Kylo, even as he hears the words from his own mouth. It’s beyond belief that Hux could want him, not only in an abstract way, but in the specific way Kylo has always longed to be wanted. Not as the heir to Leia’s Progressive political cause, not as a copy of his scoundrel of a father, but as himself. As Kylo. As messy, grandiose, melodramatic Kylo Ren.

“Nothing can stand in our way now that we’re united,” says Hux, and there’s something shy about the way he says it. He’s staring straight ahead, clasping his hands together in his lap.

“Yeah,” answers Kylo. Then, on impulse, he says, “We’ll rule everything.”

Hux turns slowly to face Kylo.

“You’ll keep that promise,” Hux whispers in a voice gone rough at the edges. “We’ll win the world, and more, Kylo. I’ll never get tired of hearing you say it.”

This time, when they kiss, it’s better than every other time so far. Sharp, wild, dangerous, adoring. Hux kisses him like Kylo is powerful, and like Hux is too. The aggression in their kiss has Kylo thinking of what life would be like if Hux were his enemy instead of his first love. There’s something exciting about that idea, too, and it makes Kylo push himself onto Hux’s lap to get closer to Hux, to hear Hux’s breath change when Kylo leans on him with all his weight.

“You’re enormous.” Hux pushes the flat of his palm against Kylo’s chest, his face pinched. “Stop crushing me. We’ll break Phasma’s glider.”

“You love it.”

Kylo nuzzles Hux’s neck. As expected, this makes Hux clutch Kylo’s shoulders and dissolve into a helpless moan.

Nevertheless, Kylo obeys. He peels himself off of Hux and stretches across the seat of the glider with his head in Hux’s lap.

Hux bends down to kiss Kylo again a few times, and Kylo cranes his neck up to meet him. Hux settles back on the glider, pushing it into swinging motion with one foot. He’s stroking Kylo’s hair. Hux cards his fingers carefully through the fluffy locks.

“Your hair is far too long,” says Hux, gazing down at him approvingly.

In response, Kylo turns his head and pushes his nose into Hux’s middle. Hux makes another of his noises, and his fingers tighten in Kylo’s hair momentarily before he relaxes and starts to pet him again.

On Monday, they’ll go back to school. They’ll have college applications to write, and tests to study for. Only a few more months of high school. The last months before the end of this charade and the beginning of real life.

Things won’t be the same at school after tonight. Hosnian Academy will be reeling from the DJ’s crimes. The students might need to speak to police. Rey and Phasma will be a couple. Snoke wants Kylo in his office three afternoons a week.

But then there’s Hux. Everything is easier with Hux.

Kylo leans into Hux’s hand in his hair. He feels small like this, held, cared for in a way he’s maybe never felt before. Hux presses his lips to Kylo’s forehead, and for a moment it’s as though neither of them will ever be truly alone again.

Kylo tries as hard as he can to catch and trap the memory of this moment. To tuck it down in his mind where only he can see it, to never let it go.

There are houses on the far shore of Lake Chandrila. One of the houses is Leia’s, though they’re too far across the water to tell which one for sure. Kylo will have to return home by morning. He’ll face his mother, whatever she wants from him. He’ll fall short of her expectations, and it will hurt them both. It’s the same story every time, which means Kylo will be able to handle it, as always. Across the black waters, Kylo can see a golden light that might be the lamp at the end of Leia’s dock.

The snowstorm has passed, and the few clouds left in the sky have chasms of blackness between them. The last of the snow will melt by morning. The boathouse trembles slightly from the wind and the waves that rock its pilings. Hux is here, with Kylo in his arms, and the stars glow bright through the gaps in the clouds. The Milky Way is visible, like the edge of a great wheel turning in the dark universe.

This is how it feels to be young.

Maybe this is Kylo’s only chance. Maybe it’s not. Maybe he’s done all of this before, and learned nothing, so now he has to do it again. Maybe he’ll have other chances to live this life — or other lives — over and over again.

 _I’ll fuck it up every time. I’ll fuck everything up just to do it again, just to get back to this moment,_ Kylo thinks, and almost laughs.

To keep his laugh in his throat, to keep from breaking the night’s silence, Kylo takes Hux’s hand and puts it to his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The towns in this fic are based on real towns around the CT-NY-MA state border, but I won't insult their residents by naming them.
> 
> Again, thank you for reading all this way with me! This was my first time posting a finished longfic, so, your support has meant a lot to me. It feels strange to post a story I wrote in March, when I was sick with Covid-19 and in a very different headspace...but I hope it’s brought you some entertainment to read about these terrible boys doing their best to find their way in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like, you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/sternfleck) and [tumblr](https://sternfleck.tumblr.com/).


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